


Hanging From a Cross of Iron

by Juulna



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ...eventually, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, And yes there will also be smut...eventually, But I am still focusing on Steve and Bucky a lot, But there will still probably be historical inaccuracies I'm sorry, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, F/M, Female Tony Stark, Getting Together, Howling Commandos - Freeform, I promise, Let's put this history degree to good use, Let’s emphasize that Slow Burn tag again y’all, Lots more focus on Bucky and Steve as we move along though, M/M, Multi, OT3, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Iron Man 2, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tags May Change, The Italian Campaign, Threesome - F/M/M, Toni just happens to be the focus because she (y'know) got sent back IN TIME, Tony-centric, True Triad, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, War, World War II, excessive cussing, i will try my best, rendezvous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juulna/pseuds/Juulna
Summary: Toni Stark never - not even once - had a soulmark appear. Not one she can remember, at any rate. But when one finally appears, and the date of her rendezvous seems impossible to meet, does she decide to move on with her life, and forget the words written upon her skin?Of course not. She's Toni fucking Stark. Making the impossible possible is practically her family motto.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Nowhere To Go But Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6381397) by [menhir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/menhir/pseuds/menhir). 
  * Inspired by [The Limitations of Wax](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6606808) by [RayShippouUchiha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayShippouUchiha/pseuds/RayShippouUchiha). 



> "Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from a cross of iron."  
> \------- President Dwight D. Eisenhower, April 16th, 1953.
> 
> ([full speech here](http://www.informationclearinghouse.info/article9743.htm))

Toni'd always wanted a soulmate. Hell, she'd even settle for a soulmark, just to feel normal.

Well. Not that Starks were ever truly  _normal_.

No, her father had ingrained that in her from the moment she was born, and going decades without a rendezvous writing itself across her skin had only reinforced that, over and over again. Every other person who'd reached thirty-eight had had at least one soulmark appear, even if they'd let the opportunity pass them by to meet their soulmate.

But.

Starks were made of iron.

And iron didn't have soulmarks. Her father and mother hadn't had soulmarks, and even if they'd had them at one point, duty and dynasty was more important than mystical or divine meddling.

So no, it had been expected of her to never succumb to any soulmarks she might gain—but they weren't around anymore, were they? She could give in to the mystical if she so chose.

 _If_  a soulmark ever appeared.

And she'd checked.

Oh, yes, she'd checked every day. But there was always the chance the mark had appeared for a brief window of opportunity, and she'd missed it, not making it to the correct place on the right date or time simply because she'd been busy.

Hell, the mark could have appeared while she was in Afghanistan, as there had been no easy way of looking herself over every day.

Plus, well, she'd been a tad bit preoccupied.

A new soulmark, a new chance, a new rendezvous could still appear, but she was well into her thirties now, and her chances were looking slimmer and slimmer as the days went by that she'd be able to  _enjoy_  herself with a soulmate.

She hadn't let it stop her, though, and she had enjoyed herself plenty, and hell, she had the most beautiful woman in her life right now, Pepper Potts, even if they weren't soulmates.

Well.

She'd  _had_  her.

Past tense.

Right. She kept forgetting about that.

Toni'd been the one to find Pep's soulmark, her rendezvous, and she'd been the one to help her dress, to push her out the door, and wish her luck and happiness and love.

Because Pepper deserved it.

But  _damn_  if it didn't hurt, losing her in that way. It had only been a week, and the woman was still firmly planted in her life as CEO and official Toni Wrangler. It hurt not to be able to touch her, to look at her, like she used to.

Shaking her head at her internal musings, Toni threw herself back into her creation, and her thoughts became focused on the task at hand once again.

* * *

It was Rhodey who found it first.

Toni had been slouching over her work table, scrolling through her holo display and reading over some test results, when Rhodey entered the lab.

"Hey JARVIS, kill the music, will you?" Rhodey asked as he walked in.

JARVIS did as he asked, the traitor.

"Hey!" Toni shot up, glaring at her best friend. "I was listening to that!" She swiveled her chair around, releasing nervous energy as she did. It was the only thing that helped to still her mind, at least sometimes, when she was interrupted mid-thought. Toni clenched her eyes shut, breathed in, and then out, centering herself with the steady hum that was reverberating subtly through her body from the arc reactor.

"What gives?" she finally asked, opening her eyes and taking in the man in front of her. He was dressed down, in dark jeans and a blue button-up, so obviously it wasn't an official visit.

Rhodey raised an eyebrow at his friend, and Toni raised one right back at him, and then finally she grinned, getting up and hugging the tall man. "It's been a while," she said as she stepped back.

"Since after you nearly died, you mean?" Rhodey asked dryly, rhetorically. "It wasn't even that long ago. And you still haven't groveled enough for that, Tones. I mean, come on, who even does that?"

Toni mock-pouted at him. "I'll build you a new suit!" She turned around, pulling her holo display towards her as she went. "I mean, it's only been two weeks since I got a new heart, cut me some slack, boo bear!"

She barely registered the gasp that Rhodey let out, already hopping onto a train of thought that swiftly began to carry her away. But she couldn't miss a large hand settling onto her shoulder, gripping her, and pulling her away from her work once again.

Toni yelped as the back of her t-shirt was pulled down, and then, before she could say or do anything, Rhodey exclaimed, "You have a  _soulmark_ , Tones. A soulmark!"

"What!" Toni was off like one of her suits, running towards the bathroom and turning on the lights as she twisted around, trying desperately to see the words written there.

But she couldn't.

They were at the nape of her neck and she could only see a hint of the black print—holy  _shit_  it was finally happening, she'd waited so long, and now she was going to meet somebody who would accept every part of her, damaged goods and all, brains and all, faults and  _all_ , and she didn't  _care_  that that may be naïve of her. She didn't care, and the mark was out of sight, and she wanted to  _see,_  and luck of all luck she didn't have a second mirror. "JARVIS, can you tell—"

"I've got you, Tones—calm down, geez," Rhodey said gently, attempting to settle her as he strode swiftly towards her. Rhodey had been privy to every thought Toni had had about soulmarks over the years. The times she'd laughed at the idea, the times she'd tried to figure out how they worked, the times that she'd thrown herself into a deep, dark hole at the thought that she'd be markless and bondless forever, and Rhodey and Pepper had been her only ways out.

He  _knew_  what this meant to Toni. He wouldn't have lied to her about it. Never about something like this. Actually, never, period. End of story. Toni could trust Rhodey with her life and more.

Rhodey would never lie to her.

Even though he had a soulmark, heralding a rendezvous a few months down the road that he planned to be there for, he'd always be  _her_  Rhodey, too. They may not have ever been a thing, but their connection… it was deeper than what many of the soulmates she met had.

She stilled, waiting for Rhodey to come over. And then,  _finally_ , the man set his warm fingers against her neck and shoulders, and tugged the shirt down and—

"Holy shit."

Toni had never heard anything like what she was now hearing in Rhodey's tone. It was equal parts reverent, shocked, and disbelieving.

All as he looked at her soulmark.

 _Hers_.

Wow.

It couldn't be  _that_  bad, right? All a soulmark could be was a string of numbers and words. How could that have garnered a response like that?

"Let me see!" Toni demanded, thrilled but also terrified—and the only reason she let that show was because it was Rhodey here with her.

But… was she ready? Was she ready to have someone so intrinsically tied to her life?

 _Yes_.

It scared her, but  _yes._ She'd always dreamed of being given the opportunity at a connection such as this.

Rhodey took out his phone and snapped a picture of the nape of Toni's neck, and then held it up for his friend to see.

The only thoughts that rushed through her mind as she stared, and stared, and  _stared_  at the letters and numbers were 'Holy  _shit_  indeed,' and 'I'm so glad I'm not holding the phone right now or else I would've dropped it.'

Because right there, plain as day—and she  _knew_  that Rhodey would never fuck with her on this—was the following:

**November 10** **th** **, 1944. 11:28pm. Ravenna, Italy.**

Toni couldn't gather a single coherent thought anymore. She simply continued to stare, and stare, and then her hands began to shake at her sides. She gripped the fabric of her sweatpants in both hands, clenching with her fingers as her heart pounded in her ears.

Rhodey pulled the phone away, and that seemed to kick start her brain—at least somewhat.

"Is that—?" she asked, incapable of completing her sentence. She just… couldn't find the words.

And  _that_  was scary. She  _always_  had the right words.

"Yeah," Rhodey replied, knowing exactly what she meant. "Yeah, that's real, Tones." He sounded just as shaken as she did.

That was scary, too. Rhodey was  _always_  calm. Well. Calm _er._

"But how is it still there?" Toni asked again, her voice cracking on the last word. She caught her own eyes in the mirror, and Toni wasn't quite sure what they showed. She didn't even know what she was feeling on the inside, never mind being able to read the physical manifestation of those feelings.

"I don't know, Tones. I don't know."

And he didn't. But neither did Toni.

She was barely aware of her best friend leaving the bathroom, let alone the lab entirely, as she descended further into her thoughts, pondering what exactly was going on.

A soulmark. Finally.

But it was in the past. Before she'd even been born.

How was that even  _possible_?

It was a wonder that the mark had appeared and remained, even—all other marks, when the time came and went without a rendezvous occurring, would disappear, leaving the skin blank for another mark to appear for a different person sometime in the future.

And yet hers was still there.

 _Long_  past the time indicated.

What was she going to  _do_?

* * *

There was no question about it—Toni Stark had to build herself a way back into the past if she was ever going to meet her soulmate. If she wanted to. She could just leave it be, pretend it didn't exist, move on with—

 _Fuck it_. Who was she kidding?

Of  _course_  she wanted to meet her soulmate. Never mind whatever fucked up joke the universe was playing on her, giving her a rendezvous that was not only in the past, but also in the middle of the bloodiest war in history, in fucking  _Italy_  of all places. Where Howard  _fucking_  Stark was bound to be running around—she knew because the damn man had made her sit down with his collection from the war at least once a year, every year like clockwork, and listen to his retellings of running around like a lost puppy after the Howling Commandos in the "good ole days".

As if  _war_  was something  _good_.

But fuck.

It was like some sort of cosmic joke, making fun of Toni as if the universe or whoever the hell was out there hadn't made Toni suffer enough already. And she shouldn't be taking the bait—she  _really_  shouldn't.

But she couldn't stop herself.

Always impulsive, even after Afghanistan, Toni knew she wouldn't be able to leave this alone.

And she was  _strong._ She'd built the Iron Man suit; had built it after three months of torture and pain. She was keeping herself alive artificially, with a new  _element_  of all things.

Of course she could do this.

She had no idea where to even begin, but if anyone could figure something like this out… it would be her. Right?

She rolled her eyes. No, she wasn't arrogant at all.

Not one bit. She could handle this all by herself.

She was Toni  _fucking_  Stark, after all.

And she handled it.

She handled it right through the research. She handled it right through gathering different components and materials. She handled it through contacting multiple theorists and specialists and researchers, harassing them until they shared as much of their work as they were willing to fork over for monetary donations and with non-disclosure agreements. She handled it through Pep yelling at her for forty minutes straight for not telling her the wonderful news sooner—and then she handled it again for twice as long when Pep found out what her words said and what exactly she planned to do about. She handled it as she and JARVIS locked themselves in the lab for over sixty-eight hours—Pep and Rhodey forcing her to eat by unceremoniously dumping food on her work table before leaving just as quietly—and only had the barest of data to show for it when she stumbled to the lab's couch to sleep.

She handled it all the way through receiving a package addressed to her and having JARVIS scan it for dangerous materials—no sense blowing herself up before she could figure all this out.

And she handled it right up until she opened the box, and blue and green light erupted from within, blinding her and whiting out the noise around her until all she could hear was a high pitched whine, and a rushing noise that grew louder and louder until it stopped.

And then—

And then she was aware that there were people surrounding her, shouting at her, but she couldn't see, she  _still_ couldn't see, and couldn't make head nor tail of what was being yelled at her. Some words came through but they were muted, and they didn't make any sense, like her hearing was muffled and her brain muddled and—

Her vision and hearing came back all of a sudden, as if slotting into place, and she was able to  _see_  and  _hear_ —

And with a gasp, Toni dropped to her knees, hands up in the air, and stared in shock as she took in the men surrounding her, every last one of them holding a gun, and every last one of those pointed at _her_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Juulna here (or Juuls on Tumblr)!
> 
> This is my first ever MCU fic. I mean, I've read a TON. But have I written one? No. I've written lots of Star Wars things, but not MCU! And gosh, is the MCU ever an intimidating fandom to work up the courage to post in. I'll say! But luckily I have my trusty Stucky-loving beta, Annaelle, to help me out. (Thank you so much, darling!)
> 
> I'm sure it comes as no surprise that this fic has been inspired by two fairly prominent ones: [Nowhere To Go But Home](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6381397/chapters/14613505) by menhir, and [The Limitations of Wax](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6606808/chapters/15115414) by RayShippouUchiha. These two authors are amazingly talented, and I have enjoyed their work so much.
> 
> So... I hope you enjoyed the start of this!
> 
> I'm so excited to be posting this and possibly meeting new people!! :D
> 
> You know what to do! xoxoxo <3 <3 <3


	2. Chapter 2

She was still reeling, but she breathed deep and pulled on the façade she had used so effectively in the past—her publicity face. The one she used when she didn't want to show exactly what she was feeling; the one she used when there were people out to hurt her, to bleed her, to  _lessen_  her.

Toni never let them.

Never let them see who she really was.

From her position on the cold, hard ground, Toni flashed a smile at the men surrounding her, though she kept her hands in the air. "Gentlemen, how  _are_  you?"

All she was met with was the sound of silence—which, really, wasn't  _silence_ , but… semantics.

It was dark out, though the soft glow of city lights could be seen in the distance, and Toni couldn't really make out the expressions on the faces around her. But the little she could see of their dirty, unshaven faces wasn't exactly welcoming.

They were…

…familiar?

What—

"Who are you?" a gruff voice asked from behind her.

The thought passed through her mind that maybe she shouldn't give her real name, should lie, but… well, that didn't always work out. So maybe…

"The name's Toni," she replied with a careless air.

A beat, then, "Pretty dame like you with a name like that?"

She bristled, but her smile never once faltered. In fact, she could feel it tightening, sharpening, before she replied, "My father chose  _Antonia_  and it never quite fit. You got a problem with that?"

There was another pause, but it seemed lighter this time, and then finally she heard a couple of chuckles. "She's as American as they come, Buck, you gotta admit that. Stand down, men. Falsworth, Dernier, you take first and second watch, I'll take third."

The guns lowered, but she could tell she was still being regarded as a threat, even as most of the men faded into the darkness around her.

Good. Because she was.

She might not know where she was, or who these people were; she may not have her suit, or a weapon—but she was a  _threat_. The last people who hadn't treated her as such, well, they  _hadn't_  lived to regret it. She was—

Wait.

Those names. They were  _more_  than familiar.

Toni spun around on her knees, hands scrambling in the dirt as she tried to catch a glimpse of the person who had just spoken. And then she did and—

" _Captain_?" she choked out incredulously.

And it  _was_  him. Captain America. Steve Rogers, in the flesh. She'd know that mug anywhere, seeing as her father was absolutely head over heels with the man. He had a literal  _shrine_  to the captain in the mansion, one which Toni hadn't looked over in ages but could still picture with perfect clarity. Hell, her dad's trust was  _still_  looking for the plane in—

Toni's mind stuttered again. She was getting absolutely tired of the sensation, but she was feeling really out of her element.

"Do I know you?" the man in question asked, looking at her oddly.

The man at his side elbowed him in the ribs.

" _Barnes_?" She just couldn't stop herself. She was reeling, not knowing who to look at, what to do, where she was…  _when_  she was. Because… because…

She swiveled around, still on her knees, taking in the forms of the men surrounding them in the darkness. One, two… seven. Seven men.

Seven men she knew too well.

"Ma'am? Are you okay?" A hand on her shoulder had her startling back into awareness. She blinked her eyes a few times to try to clear them, and then stared.

"What year is it?" she asked suddenly. "The date? The  _time_? Where am I?" She fired off the questions in rapid succession, barely stopping to breathe. She could feel her heart racing, blood pounding in her ears, the thrum of her arc reactor vibrating through her body. She brought a hand up, spreading her fingers across the glass and metal shining beneath her t-shirt, trying to calm her breathing. She closed her eyes and then opened them again quickly as she heard another man drop to his knees in front of her.

"Ma'am?" This time it was Barnes asking. James  _fucking_  Barnes. With Steve  _fucking_  Rogers. In front of her. Staring into her eyes. Reaching a hand out towards her other shoulder as if he could help stabilize her with his touch alone. Rogers glanced down to where her hand was splayed against the glow, and she could see the questions that he wanted to ask—questions she probably  _couldn't_  answer.

Oh shit.

She was  _so_  screwed.

She wanted this, to go back in time, but it was only now that she was fully realizing the potential for utter  _chaos_  that her presence could bring. She'd always been impulsive, always reactionary, never letting someone tell her 'no'—and in fact, doing the exact  _opposite_ , usually—and often leaping headfirst into danger.

It was only afterwards that she realized her mistakes. Sure, she learned from those mistakes, but it wasn't like she'd ever learned to  _stop_  doing what she did.

"The year—tell me what  _year_  it is!" she gasped out. She needed to know. She  _knew_ , but she needed her theory confirmed. It wasn't science until it was—

"1944, ma'am," the captain replied in a slightly unsure tone.

"Toni," she corrected him absently. "Ma'am was my mo… ther…"

Oh.  _Fuck_.

Her dad. Her father. Howard Stark was nearly synonymous with the Howling Commandos during the war. During 1944. Nineteen  _fucking_  forty-four.

Shit. Shit shit shit  _shit_.

She only realized she'd spoken the last bit out loud when Barnes laughed out loud and the captain gave her a consternated look.

Barnes clapped his hands together and then stood up, offering her his hand. "Oh I  _like_  her, Steve. Can we keep her?" He laughed again, grin spreading across his features.

It was infectious, and Toni found her own lips quirking upwards in a reflexive smile. His laugh was… nice. It was nice.

It was 1944 and it was nice.

Wow. What is her  _life_?

She looked up, watching as Rogers himself stood up, and then she reached up to grab the hand that was proffered. Immediately, she was hauled upwards even as she pushed herself off of her knees.

The zap of energy had her stumbling, Barnes yelping, and Rogers reaching out to grab her bare elbow to stabilize her. She was hit by a second surge, and it surprised her just as much as the first. The men stared at her, eyes wide, and then immediately let go of her, taking a large step back. Rogers' hand looked like he was getting ready to reach for the shield on his back, and Barnes just went straight for his gun, though he didn't remove it from its holster.

Toni was sure the only thing that saved her was that she likely looked just as shocked as she felt; just as shocked as they were. She'd brought one hand to her lips, the other pressed tight against the reactor, and she knew that her mask was slipping completely off of her features—what little there was left of it by this point, at any rate.

They were silent, gazes darting back and forth between each other's faces in the dim glow of the moon and her reactor, their breaths shuddering in and out as they tried to control themselves. A couple of the men nearby were surely shooting glances their way, but they kept their peace, likely waiting for the captain or sergeant to notify them on if and how they should react.

But they were looking at  _her_  like they were waiting for Toni to make the first move. Like she was a bomb, waiting to go off. Like she was unwelcome, or unexpected, or a danger.

Well, she knew how to react to  _that_.

Pasting her winsome smile back on to hide the bitter disappointment welling up within her—how could she have ever expected this to go in her favor; nothing  _ever_  went in her favor—she wiggled her toes into the cold earth.

"I assume today's November 10th?"

Silence.

She sighed, jutting her hip to the side and placing her hand on it. "And I assume this is Ravenna, Italy?"

Silence.

"Come on boys, what's a girl to do to get a jacket and some socks here?"

Their eyes snapped to her feet and back, and then suddenly she was moving, being propelled towards a small collection of motorcycles she hadn't even noticed.

Well,  _that_  had certainly gotten them moving.

* * *

"So…" Bucky kicked his heels out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles as he leaned back against Steve. The little bit of light coming from beneath her shirt—and he  _itched_  to see what the light was being powered by—was enough to see the way her eyes widened slightly, as if she hadn't expected their closeness, when Steve put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him back to rest comfortably against his chest.

Her stare was piercing, taking them all in, as best as she could in the near dark, and Bucky tilted his head slightly as he observed her in turn, trying to figure her out.

It wasn't like the romantic nature of his soulbond with Steve was common knowledge, but the way she looked at them, like she  _knew_  them, but was still surprised by their closeness… it was interesting.

He filed that thought away for later.

"Why don't you start with where you're from, and we'll figure out what to do with you?" he finally ventured.

Her eyes immediately narrowed. " _Do_  with me?" she hissed. "I'd like to see you try!"

Woah, okay there.

Bucky lifted both hands in a placating gesture as Steve's entire body shook with silent laughter. He wanted to turn around and glare at the other man's whispered, "Thought you were good with the dames, jerk," but he didn't dare take his eyes off of the woman in front of him. She was glaring at him, still, but then her eyes darted towards Steve, taking in his laughter no doubt, and he could see her shoulders slump  _just_  a little.

A very little. She was a proud one alright.

His soulmate. Another soul—

He studiously ignored the thought, instead choosing to focus on the woman as she tugged one of the spare jackets tighter around her shoulders. "I'm from New York," she finally sighed, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before they opened and her gaze pierced right through him again.

 _Lord,_  she was a spitfire. They'd known her for barely twenty minutes, and yet she'd already stared down seven guns pointed at her face with barely a wince. And her  _language_. He wanted to whistle, but he wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't try to strangle him. The little— _very_  little—that he could sense of her through the tenuous, accidental bond, was… not particularly encouraging, and he wanted to do anything he could to prevent that bitter disappointment and anger from being pushed out into the open.

"Your accent ain't quite New York," Steve accused.

 _Idiot_ ,Bucky thought as the woman turned her stare on the blond.

"Not like yours, no," she finally replied, reaching up to shove a black curl behind her ear. "Upstate and Manhattan, not Brooklyn, but I also lived for quite a while in California."

"Ah," was all Steve could get out.

Bucky just rolled his eyes and then asked, pointedly, "What year y'from?"

Antonia simply stared at him, and the sudden stillness from Steve was telling in and of itself, even without the incredulity he could feel in the back of his mind that was coming from the man himself.

"How did you know?" she whispered, eyes darting around her.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she raised one right back. In response, he quirked his lips upward, and tipped his hat at her. "Too many people underestimate me, ma'am, but I've gotta be observant to be good at what I do," he explained, without even a hint of arrogance. He didn't have an ego—he was just that good. "You asked what year you're in and, honestly, after the shit we've—Steve, what the hell, she cusses worse than you do, give it a rest—after the  _shit_ ," he continued, emphasizing the word as he jabbed his elbow into his partner's stomach, "we've seen, it's honestly not entirely out of the realm of the possible for time travel to be a thing. Plus, y'know," he shrugged, "'destiny' and all that." He gestured at his temple in the near-universal symbol for a soulbond.

She looked startled that he was even acknowledging it.

Or rather, she  _felt_  startled, but the flippant mask she'd donned stayed right where it was, never adjusting one bit. She looked at him as if she were trying to disassemble him and figure out how he worked, how he thought, how he  _breathed_. Her stare was calculating, assessing, and he could swear he saw a hint of Peggy in the way she tilted her head  _just so_.

She was intelligent, that was for sure, and not to be trifled with. Much like Steve had learned with Peggy.

He tilted his head right back at her, inquisitive.

"2009," she finally said, nearly defiant, tilting her chin just that little bit higher as if she were daring them to defy her.

Steve practically jumped out of his skin, the only thing keeping him pressed against the tree trunk being Bucky pushing back even harder against him.

"Quiet," he shot back at Steve over his shoulder, and then turned his gaze back upon their… soulmate? Friend? Ally? He had no idea how to refer to her.

"That where you got the light, Antonia?" he asked.

"It's  _Toni_ ," she growled back at him. "Only my dad ever—" She cut herself off suddenly, a flash of pain crossing her features. Bucky was about to ask her what was wrong when she continued, her expression smoothing out again. "Toni. With an I. Seriously, please don't call me…  _that_." She sighed, bringing her fingers up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, it's where I got the hardware." She tapped her knuckles against the light gleaming through her shirt, glowing through the vee of the jacket around her shoulders.

Bucky eyed it curiously. He'd always loved technology, and to see a new puzzle, a new marvel, before his very eyes… just wow. He wanted to see what it did, how it worked, what powered it… he just wanted to soak in the  _knowledge_. And if she really was from—holy shit,  _really_?—2009 of all things, there was so  _much_  she'd be able to tell him.

"What's it for? How does it work? What does it run on?" he heard himself ask, unable to curb his enthusiasm.

And her entire face lit up. It was like watching the sun come out from behind the clouds, her pert little nose scrunching up in excitement and a smile spreading like wildfire across her face. He couldn't help but to smile back as she sat forward excitedly, even as he felt a hint of  _pain_  and  _anger_  stabbing into him from the part of his brain where Toni now resided.

"Well, uh, it, it's for my hear—" She stumbled over her first words, and then looked slightly frustrated. " _Shit_ , I don't know what I can and can't tell you. I mean, like, there's got to be some time-traveling rules or some shit I'm violating just by being here," she muttered to herself, brain already veering off in another direction entirely, Bucky could tell. "Ah  _fuck it_ ," she whispered again, causing Steve to wince again.

It did  _not_  go unnoticed by the black-haired woman. She narrowed her eyes and then pointedly looked away from Steve, focusing in on Bucky—truly, the only sensible one of the two, Bucky would have to agree.

"It keeps me alive," she finally stated, as if it were no big deal.

Bucky blinked. "What happened?"

"Shrapnel to the chest. The reactor—" She gestured at the glow, "—keeps it from reaching my heart."

She said it so…  _tonelessly_. Like… like it was nothing; as if it weren't a matter of life or death—which Bucky  _knew_  it was; he'd seen people die from shrapnel to their legs or arms, let alone their  _heart_.

He was  _fascinated_.

"It's sort of like a big magnet, I guess you could say." Toni shrugged one shoulder, and then pulled her shirt down slightly in the front.

Bucky and Steve leaned forward to get a better look. Bucky filled with awe, and Steve feeling the same way to Bucky, before—

"Steve, no—"

Too late.

"That looks like Hydra tech," Steve bit out.

Bucky scrambled to his feet as Steve pushed him off, the other man slowly rising to his full height as a frown tugged at his lips. Steve pushed his shoulders back defiantly, hands unclenched and ready at his sides, feet shoulder-width apart.

Bucky knew that stance all too well—the punk was ready to fight. Especially Hydra. Especially after Azz… Yeah, he was ready to fight.

But Bucky didn't need to step in. The woman was on her feet, hands clenched, and staring up at Steve from nearly a foot's height difference, especially with only secondhand socks on her feet. Her curly hair was sticking out in all sorts of directions from its bun at the back of her head, the blue glow—Christ, it  _did_  look like Hydra blue—lighting up her snarl from beneath.

And suddenly—

Well, suddenly, she really  _did_  look dangerous.

He'd known that already, had been keeping an eye on her, just in case, but now...

Behind enemy lines, from the future—was she really? Hydra was always advanced technologically—seemingly harmless, but she carried herself like a killer, a tactician, a warrior, a  _leader_. Confident, smart, snarling, and  _dangerous_.

"The tech is mine," she hissed up at Steve. "It's mine, and I fought tooth and nail to build it. I nearly  _died_ —someone else  _did_  die for it, for me. It's mine and no fucking  _Nazis_  would ever dare touch it because I would kill them for even looking at it; for daring to think that they could own a piece of  _me_." She heaved in a deep breath, her shoulders drawing up and back. " _No one_  owns me, Cap. Not even you." Her eyes flicked briefly towards Bucky, then went right back to glaring at Steve. "Not even him. I own  _myself_."

And with all the force she could bring to bear she shoved her shoulder against Steve's, pushing past him and stalking towards the collection of rocks where the rest of the Commandos were sleeping.

Or, at least,  _trying_  to sleep.

Bucky caught Dugan glaring at Steve, right before that glare switched to himself. Of  _course_  the men had heard that.

He sighed, and then punched Steve in the arm,  _hard_ , as he walked past, snagging an extra blanket to give to the little hellion. He paused, for a brief moment, and looked Steve in the eye. "Stevie, you still don't know a damn thing about women, do ya?"

As he walked towards the group, he could hear Toni muttering, "Fuck Hydra. Fuck Nazis. Fuck Steve fucking Rogers," underneath her breath as she settled in a couple of feet away from Gabe. "Fuck the past."

Oh, he  _liked_  her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter two! I'm still getting a feel for the characters, but I think it's starting to come together. Slowly, but surely! I hope you liked it, please let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, if anyone's interested, I wrote a Stuckony oneshot yesterday called [Necrosis](http://archiveofourown.org/chapters/26578404). Just had to get it out of my system, and I hope you enjoy it as well!
> 
> Take care, all, and I'll be seeing you again soon. Come visit me on Tumblr ([Juuls](https://juuls.tumblr.com/)) if you feel like it. :) xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for the amazing response (kudos, reviews, comments, bookmarks, favs and follows) I've been getting on this fic. It's simply amazing and it just makes me SO happy. I couldn't help but to keep my brother updated on the response, and he just smiled at me fondly. :P
> 
> Thank you to my amazing beta, Annaelle. She saves my bacon plenty, and she absolutely elevates this story to the next level. Thank you, love.
> 
> Here's a bit of a longer chapter. I'll be visiting my grandparents from tomorrow, the 22nd, to the 29th. I should be able to fit in some writing, but just in case... I will definitely have chapter 4 for you by that next weekend if I can't update on this upcoming weekend.
> 
> Let me know what you think! :D

**November11th, 1944. Ravenna, Italy.**

Dawn was approaching.

Steve Rogers could see the faint hint of lighter grey that edged the horizon. It wasn't quite dawn—not yet—but it was near. The sky would keep getting lighter until the sun peeked out, finally, and the colors that splashed across the heavens were something that made him itch for pencils and a sketchbook. He and Bucky'd never had enough for the wide array of shades that he would need to do the sky justice, however—never mind the fact that he'd been colorblind, and couldn't truly appreciate this before… before he had changed. But… maybe now they could, after the war. Pencils, paints, watercolors…

One could only  _dream_.

Dawn wasn't the only reason that he took the final watch of the night. More often than not, after the serum, he could only sleep a handful of hours a night. So, no matter how tired he was, he was often awake before dawn anyway.

Well, even before the serum he had always been a light sleeper, easily awoken by the slightest sound—which usually turned out to be Bucky's snoring.  _Lord_  that man could snore.

He glanced behind him, a fond smile tugging on the corner of his lips, though he knew he wouldn't be able to make out much more than the barest hint of the group's shapes through the bushes surrounding them.

But he could sense the mostly contented but slightly anxious feel of Bucky's mind as he slept, and it soothed him in turn, knowing that he was safe. The nightmares had lessened, at least, the further they got from Azzano—both in distance and in time.

They'd not truly spoken of what Hydra had done to Bucky during his time as a prisoner, but he had noticed things, had  _felt_  things from Bucky. He had a general idea of what had happened, as well; one that made him want to blow up the whole damned base all over again, just for hurting what was  _his_.

He knew Bucky would talk to him once he had found the words to say what he needed to. After nearly fifteen years together, Steve was an expert in dealing with Bucky. He would give him his time, but eventually something would have to be said. In the meantime, however, Steve would be the best damn partner, soulmate,  _friend_  that he could be.

The little bundle that was Antonia, however… that was another issue entirely. She was asleep, but plagued by nightmares that he knew would have woken Bucky and overcome both him and Steve alike if the soulbond was fully realized—like the one he and Bucky shared.

A part of him wanted to go to her, reach out to her, shake her awake and ask if she was okay; if she needed any help.

But the other part of him… well, first of all he wasn't sure if his inquiries would be welcome, or not, but he also wanted to keep his distance.

He and Bucky had been bonded soulmates since they were ten, when Bucky had jumped in and helped Steve—saved him, honestly—beat up a bunch of bullies.

" _I had him on the ropes."_

"' _course ya did. I'm Bucky."_

" _Steve."_

" _Can I see your mark?"_

He smiled softly at the thought.

They'd never looked back, and they'd never needed anyone else since. Except maybe his mother and Bucky's and Bucky's sisters. They knew. They'd always known, and had always been there to offer support when the world made them despair; when it made them angry and feel like they couldn't ever be their true selves in public.

Sure, the world—for the most part—viewed same-gender soulmates as platonic. The rate of same-gender soulmates was low compared to opposite-gender, but Bucky and he knew… they knew they were for each other.

They'd only ever had each other.

Even the ladies they— _Bucky—_ went dancing with were for the public eye. But they always came home to each other.

And now there was someone intruding on what they had. Someone who could upset the balance of who they were together—the balance of their  _love_ —soulmate or no.

But she was definitely their soulmate. The shock of connection confirmed it.

If he had known, if he had seen the soulmark on he or Bucky—they barely had any time alone together right now, and besides that it was  _cold_ —he would have sought to avoid the area entirely.

But when that soft glow of green and blue was seen in the distance, he knew they'd had to check it out. Just in case.

He wish they hadn't.

He didn't want his life to change.

He was  _happy_  with the way things were—well, besides the war. But that was a given.

Still.

He was  _healthy_ , for the first time in his life, and he was making a difference, and he had Bucky.

 _He_  had Bucky.

He didn't want to  _share_  him. And yes, it was a triad bond. He'd seen the way Bucky had startled at the touch of skin to skin, and had felt the connection shock through Bucky's mind the same way it was shocking through his when he reached out instinctively, without thought, to steady the woman.

Triad bonds were extremely rare, and they hadn't seen a mark—hadn't been  _looking_  for one—so he'd had no compunction about touching her skin. He hadn't ever thought that he and Bucky would have a third, though they had entertained the idea of inviting a dame or gent to their bed for fun—one day.

Hell. They'd only ever  _truly_  considered maybe asking Peggy—the only other person who seemed to have seen  _Steve_ behind his appearance. She meant a lot to him and Bucky alike, even if just for that.

But…

He didn't know what to make of this.

Steve sighed, running his hand through his hair. It was a little too long, he thought idly; he'd have to get it trimmed soon so it didn't get in his way.

He shook off the thought and sighed again.

What a night.

He was distracted from his thoughts again when he felt Bucky wake in the way that was particular to him. A way Steve had known since childhood. One moment he was asleep, the next awake, but he didn't move a muscle. Didn't change his breathing. Always aware, from the moment he woke. Steve supposed that it was part of what made him as good a sniper as he was; as good a soldier, and a sergeant right off the bat.

He stayed where he was, knowing that Bucky would come to him. Something they did together on many mornings, talking softly or holding each other while watching the sun peek out from beyond the horizon, but always careful for what dangers could be lurking.

"Stevie?" Bucky whispered into his ear as he came up behind him, wrapping his arms around the breadth of Steve's shoulders—and wow, that's still something he hasn't gotten used to, Bucky not being able to envelop him like he used to when he was small—and holding him tight. "You're thinking too loudly. You okay?"

Not like Steve'd ever had a hope of hiding what he was feeling—even without the soulbond, Steve would bet everything that he had that Bucky would be able to read him like one of his science fiction books. He was just that bad at keeping things from Bucky, at keeping his expressions neutral like he sometimes could with strangers.

"You're mine," Steve was finally able to get out. He hadn't meant to say that; he'd wanted to say something along the lines of him being okay, that Bucky needn't worry, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

A surge of embarrassment welled up within him at his neediness, and he was glad that Bucky wasn't looking at his face.

"I am," Bucky conceded after a moment. Steve could tell that the man was thinking carefully of his words, parsing through the emotions and the hints of thought that were likely leaking through the soulbond. "I'm yours, and you're mine, doll. Ain't nothing gonna change that." He pressed his lips to the sensitive patch of skin on the back of Steve's neck, knowing that that was one of Steve's favorite spots.

Steve took a moment to let the words and their meaning wash over him, reveling in the pet name and the fact that Bucky was  _his_ … before his thoughts change direction entirely.

Or rather, before his thoughts returned to their earlier track.

"But things  _are_  changing, Buck. I just… I didn't want this. I  _don't_  want this. I…" He struggled to put his thoughts into words. He knew he was being a bit of an asshole, and that wasn't necessarily the fault of Antonia—whoever she was in truth—but he couldn't help but to feel like his life was spinning out of control again, after he had finally gained control over it.

"I don't know what to do," he finally admitted, shoulders slumping slightly, leaning back into the warm comfort of Bucky's chest.

Bucky stayed silent for a few minutes, and Steve let the silence stretch. It wasn't an awkward silence, and Steve could feel Bucky thinking, though he didn't actively try to catch any of the specifics. Sometimes it was better—and more sane—to ignore most of the additional input from one's soulbond. It could be… loud. Distracting.

So Steve let him be, until he was ready to speak.

"Look," Bucky finally began, words soft and quiet for his ears alone. "I know this isn't what either of us expected. We don't know her. We didn't expect a triad. We weren't  _looking_  for one, not like this, at least. And we don't know anything about her, or if we can truly trust her. I will give you that." He nipped lightly at Steve's earlobe, and he couldn't help the shiver that ran through his body.

Bucky knew his body better than Steve did at times and he was sure the other man knew  _exactly_  what he was doing in that moment—at all times, really; the man was confidence personified, he swore.

"But," he continued. "Let's see how things go. There's nothing that says we can't at least be friends with her. Nothing more. That's up to us. It's up to anyone who meets their soulmate. It's our choice to pursue or not. She's our soulmate, but we have no idea what kind of connection it is, Stevie. And I won't pursue it or try to find out unless  _you_  want to as well." Before Steve could cut in, he quickly continued, slightly more forcefully than before.

More passionately.

Steve shivered a little and pressed back into Bucky's arms.

"You're mine, Stevie,  _punk_. Mine. We're in this together, remember? To the end of the line. You're always going to be my best guy. It's always going to be me and you, Stevie. Always. And if it's just us at the end of the line, if that's what you want, then that's what it is. Okay?"

"I…" Steve didn't quite know what to say, but he knew that he was grateful. He couldn't help but to reply, however, "I feel guilty. She… she looked so… I don't know. I can't even put it into words, but you saw her. She had this mask on, put it on, but sometimes things slipped through. She looked… lost. Hurt. Disappointed. Never mind the anger at the end—that was entirely my fault, and I believe her when she says she's not Hydra, at least now, but still…" Steve stared off into the distance as he thought of how to put his thoughts and feelings into words. The horizon was a mix of soft gold and bright pink, and in the distance he could see the outline of the Alps more clearly than before.

"I know, Stevie," Bucky cut in before he could figure out what to say. "You don't need to say it. I know. I don't know what to do either, if that's any consolation." He squeezed Steve again, and then pressed the side of his face against the large plane of Steve's back. "She's an unknown element, in a war zone, but she's as American as they come, and  _more_. Plus, she  _really_  seems to hate Hydra. Goodness gracious. That  _fire_."

A hint of admiration was in Bucky's tone, and it came across the bond as well. He wasn't even sure if Bucky was aware.

He knew Bucky already liked her—at least a little bit—and he wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. She seemed feisty enough, and was probably a good person. Smart, for sure. But…

He sighed and turned around in Bucky's arms, and framed the other man's face with his hands, sweeping his thumbs across his cheeks. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the slightly shorter man's lips, lingering so that he could revel in the feel of him against his mouth, his hands. It was chaste, but that didn't matter. The love was there.

It always would be.

"I'll always love you. Just the same as before, Stevie. That will  _never_  change," Bucky whispered as he drew back. "We'll take it a day at a time. Now, are you ready to grab some breakfast? Everyone else has started in on the rations and I'm pretty sure Morita pulled out some of his salted jerky for us all. I know how much you like that stuff." He smiled at Steve, and suddenly Steve felt like everything would be okay. They had each other.

They could figure the rest of it out later.

Except…

"Have you looked for your new mark?" he asked Bucky quietly, though he couldn't help the note of jealousy he knew was creeping into his tone.

Bucky stepped back and pulled at the tie keeping his right pant leg tight around his boots. He rolled up the fabric, and there, in stark black, were words wrapping around his calf just below his knee.

**November 10** **th** **, 1944. 11:28pm. Ravenna, Italy.**

"Yours are here." And Bucky straightened up and traced his finger against the back of Steve's skull, right behind his left ear. "Saw them a little while ago, but didn't wanna interrupt ya," he said, slightly sheepishly, affection carrying through the bond. "Don't worry, they're hidden, but ya might wanna keep your hair a little longer when you cut it. And I can do that for ya."

Steve could only nod, staring at the words on Bucky's skin.

He wished he'd seen them earlier.

Bucky fixed his pant leg, and then straightened and gave Steve a lingering kiss, hands rubbing up and down Steve's arms. "I love you, punk."

"Love you too, jerk," Steve whispered back. "Thank you."

Bucky kissed him again, softly, and then they turned around and walked towards the rest of the group.

* * *

Toni eyed the men around her with a sort of detached awe. In the soft morning light of early dawn she was able to take in the men around her with a lot more clarity than the darkness—and the subtle glow of her arc reactor—had provided. But clarity didn't wipe away the fact that she still couldn't quite believe she was in  _Italy_ , of all places. In fucking 1944.

Wow.

She was  _still_  having trouble with that fact.

 _Christ_.

She was chewing on some of the best salted jerky she'd ever had—wasn't quite sure what meat it was, but it wasn't like she really cared; it was  _good_ —and taking everything in.

She was bundled up in her borrowed coat—a simple brown leather jacket, a little big in the arms and shoulders, but otherwise it fit quite well. She had it buttoned, covering her arc reactor, and she gripped her wrists with each hand.

Toni sighed wistfully as her fingers rubbed over the band, metal, and glass of her watch. She wanted to use it, to hear his comforting voice, but there was no place for that right now. That was something  _private_.

Being here, being in the past… she hadn't even really considered what it would feel like in her fervor to actually  _get_  here. She'd never stopped to think about what she'd do when she got here, focusing on the science, the math, the  _philosophy_  of time travel. She'd been in so much of a hurry that she hadn't thought of the most important things.

Things she was realizing now.

Like what to do when she met her soulmate.

Soul _mates_. Plural.

Wow.

And what the  _fuck_  kind of twist of fate—cosmic  _joke_ —was it that she would be tied to Captain  _fucking_  America and his sidekick James  _fucking_  Barnes?

They were pretty cool, she thought, if one disregarded the cold shoulder Rogers had been giving her and the curious, calculating looks Bucky had been shooting her across the other sleeping forms the previous evening.

She was pretty sure she could like them, but…

They died.

She was bonded—even if not fully—to two walking dead men. Who would be dying within three months.

What the absolute  _fuck_ , world.

She was tied to two men who didn't make it out of the war. Steve Rogers sacrificed himself when he downed a plane full of Hydra's version of nuclear warheads.

There'd been rumors, of course, that implied he'd gone a little mad after seeing his soulmate fall from a Hydra train in the Alps, that he'd downed the plane because he didn't want to live in a world that didn't have James Barnes in it—platonic or not.

Toni suspected there had been more truth to it than she had originally assumed.

They were very obviously much more than platonic soulmates, though she supposed that homosexuality was not quite as accepted now as it was in 2009.

Hell; they were still a far cry from actual acceptance in 2009, on that topic, let alone on triad bonds— _those_  were accepted far less than same-gender romantic bonds were, and that was saying something.

But obviously the Howling Commandos knew about the true nature of Steve and Bucky's bond; it was just the world at large that had never known.

It made her wonder who else had been in on that particular secret.

And yet they'd trusted her enough—despite Cap's accusation that her arc reactor was Hydra tech—to show the depth of their relationship to her last night. Maybe because of their unexpected—and  _unwelcome_ , judging by Rogers' attitude, she reminded herself sadly—soulbond. Maybe because she was a woman, but she didn't think so. They'd all eyed her with enough suspicion that she was sure they wouldn't underestimate a woman—and stories from Aunt Peggy had underscored that fact.

Oh.

Holy  _shit_.

Aunt  _Peggy_.

She could feel her mask slipping at the thought of seeing her Aunt Peggy again. Of seeing her without the cloud and haze of Alzheimer's making her forget her godchild more times than she remembered her.

She missed her, even though she was still there, even though she could still reach out and  _touch_  her.

Toni suddenly found herself wondering if there had been any truth to the rumors that Peggy and Steve had shared anything during the war. She remembered the film reels showing Captain America with a locket with Peggy's photo within it… but…

Well  _fuck me_ , Toni thought, amusement bubbling up within her.

Aunt Peggy had almost certainly known about Bucky and Steve's relationship. She was probably Steve's fucking  _beard_.

Oh my  _god_ , that was fucking  _hilarious_!

Go Aunt Peggy! Fight the man!

Toni's eyes crinkled, but she kept her laughter locked up tight—but oh  _man_ , she wanted to let loose. That was just  _too awesome_.

"Mademoiselle?" A voice interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up quickly, startled only slightly, but recovering quickly and placing a soft smile upon her face.

"Bon matin, monsieur," she replied, recognizing the man immediately. He and the rest of the Howling Commandos—the  _Howlies_ , her father and godmother had called them, fondly—were nearly as familiar of features to her as Captain America. "Vous êtes Dernier, non? Jacques Dernier?"

She didn't even care if that was a little weird. Didn't care if they had heard her say she was from fucking 2009— _wow,_ yet again—since she was sure they'd be told or would find out at some point anyway. The Howlies were close. They were loyal. She knew they wouldn't reveal anything personal about Rogers and Barnes—though she wasn't sure if they were going to tell the men or not about the soulbond—and would follow their lead as far as she went… unless she gave them good cause to distrust her.

And  _hell no_. She wouldn't do that.

Fucking Nazis.

She'd help them kick Nazi ass as best she could.

If they let her follow them.

"Oui, Dernier," he replied, sitting down on the log beside her. He held up a pair of boots, and at a glance it looked like they would fit her smaller feet. "J'ai du chaussures pour vous. On a des vêtements si vous voulez aussi. Vous êtes…?"

"Je suis Toni." She didn't provide her last name. She wasn't really sure how she'd answer that when the time came, but it's not like she could say she was a Stark. Or even a Carter. Or a Carbonelli, like her mother was. If she encountered her father, and she said that was her last name… even that could change the future. Maybe… hm. Maybe Potts or Rhodes. Those could work, she mused idly.

With a shake of her head, she realized the man had placed a cup of coffee in her hands. She'd been so lost in thought she hadn't even seen that someone had  _handed_  her something—and that was something she tried to avoid at all cost.

"Merci," was all she said, though, before she took a sip of the warm coffee. She sighed happily as she felt it go down. She'd actually gotten some decent sleep, though the haze and fear of her nightmares still lingered on the edge of her consciousness, as always. The coffee was the cheap swill officers sometimes got to carry, and she knew it was a precious commodity for the men, so it meant a lot that they had given her a portion of their precious coffee.

Yuck. She'd have to go without as much coffee as usual. This was going to be fun.

She downed the rest of it, then grabbed the boots off of the ground, shoving her feet, covered by borrowed socks, inside. Hm, there was a little bit of space in the toes, but she could make up for that a little by tying the laces tightly.

The offer of clothes… well, for now her sweatpants and t-shirt would work, covered as she was in the warm and lined leather jacket, but maybe she'd grab some gloves from them later, and some clothes if these got too dirty. Later.

She stood up and took a few experimental steps. "Merci," she said again as she turned around. She caught sight of what he was fiddling with, and her eyes lit up.

"Oh! Vous avez des explosifs? Que'est-ce qu'ils font avec?"

Dernier's face lit up, and he quickly launched into an explanation of what type of explosives he used, including the miniature bomb that he was rolling idly in the palms of his hands. She eyed it, her hands itching to get ahold of it. As much as she was a futurist, old tech was unbelievably fascinating to her—including weapons.

 _Especially_  weapons.

She might have scrubbed the weapons division of Stark Industries, she might believe and desperately want world peace, but… well, they were in the middle of World War II. It's not like she could change that. She wasn't in control.

And boy did that rankle.

As she listened to Dernier enthusiastically detailing some of his most daring exploits with bombs and other explosives, she smiled.

She kept the smile on her face even as she saw her two men—no, nope, not  _hers_ , fuck, nobody wanted her, she'd show them what they were missing—stroll back into camp. They weren't touching, but they walked closer together than others would, and she could tell that they were comfortable together. That they knew each other intimately, in more ways than one. That they fought and lived side by side, and had done so for years.

There was no place for her there.

Unusually quiet for Toni, she observed and listened, and asked questions here and there as Dernier carried on, moving the conversation in interesting directions.

But her mind wandered.

Of course it did. It always did—her greatest curse and her greatest gift, in one.

She had to figure out what to do. Should she stay, should she help, should she find a way back to her rightful time?

She wasn't sure, and she  _hated_  that.

* * *

The morning had flown by. The men had gotten on their motorcycles, Dernier offering for her to ride with him—the captain had announced she'd be joining them, and the men had simply looked at her and given her welcoming smiles.

Much of their ride was on back roads, and there was no easy way to speak, or at least no easy way to hear when someone spoke. So she'd been alone with her thoughts.

Her lonely—even in the middle of a crowd she always felt  _lonely_ —thoughts.

Fuck her life.

Like, seriously.

Thoughts speeding through her at a million miles a minute, she took in the breathtaking scenery. It may have been November, may have been cold, and the land freezing, the leaves fallen… but it was beautiful. They were moving closer to the Alps looming above them, and she found her eyes returning to them often.

She leaned back on the bike, her hands gripping the bars on the edge of the seat, and let the wind stream through her loose hair.

No matter what… this was freeing.

She'd enjoy herself while she could. Make the most of it.

As much as you could in a warzone.

With the motherfucking Howling Commandos.

She let a grin play at her lips briefly.

Actually, this could be  _awesome_.

* * *

"What do you mean…" she said slowly, eyeing the blond man in front of her through her narrowed gaze, "…you want me to stay here? I can help!"

Steve Rogers swallowed, and she tracked the bob of his Adam's apple with her eyes, momentarily distracted by that  _truly_  magnificent jawline—so sue her, she could fucking admire him even if she was mad at him—and shook herself, then looked up and met his eyes, catching them and holding them.

Good. She could still make men tremble with just a look.

Fuck him.

And  _not_  in a nice way.

"Is this because I'm a woman?" she asked softly, a dangerous lilt in her voice. She took a step closer, and saw the man's muscles twitch as if he wished to take a step back and away from her. "Or is it because you don't trust me? Or both?"

A burly man—Timothy Dugan, also known as Dum Dum Dugan—took a few steps in towards them, from where the rest of the group was watching the tense confrontation between Steve and Toni. "Ma'am," he began, clapping a large hand on Steve's shoulder. "I think what our captain is trying to say—in a  _not_  so great way, c'mon Rogers, really? —is that we are unused to fighting alongside others at the moment, and we are not sure of your capabilities." He eyed the knife that Toni had grabbed from Dernier's bags; the one she was twirling around the fingers of one hand with skill and grace.

"I bet you're damn good, ma'am— _Toni_ ," he corrected as she just  _looked_  at him. "But we're used to fighting with each other, not with you."

Toni pondered his words, looking from man to man as she did. Most of them had varying degrees of respect on their features—though probably mostly because she was making the captain twitch, she thought amusedly—but Barnes just looked like he wanted to fucking  _laugh_.

At who, she wasn't sure, but she could sense a shade of amusement in her mind from him.

She felt her lips twitch upward, just slightly, and she stepped back, finally releasing her glare.

She expertly tossed the knife into her other hand and held her right out to Dugan. He gripped it firmly, and then released it, and she nodded at him as she stepped back a few more steps so that she could perch on a fence post. "That's acceptable and fair," she told him, ignoring the captain, who honestly looked a little put out—and  _felt_  that way, too.

"We can always use another pair of eyes, as well, Toni, if you'd like. I've got a pair of binoculars here somewhere…" Bucky muttered as he started to look through the pockets of his bike's saddlebags.

Binoculars? Toni sighed as she eyed the sniper rifle that was Bucky's backup, strapped onto the edge of the bike.

She would be so much more useful with  _that_  than a pair of fucking binoculars. What the fuck. It wasn't like she was going to fucking  _shoot_  them with it if they gave her a gun.

But whatever.

She could grab it when they left for the base, and when Bucky moved to the sniper's nest he'd already plotted out.

"Fine," she muttered, only semi-graciously. She snatched the binoculars out of his hands, flinching only slightly when their fingers grazed. Steve gave Barnes, then her, a sharp, unreadable look, and he was too faint in her mind for her to make heads nor tails out of his thoughts.

"See you boys later," she said flippantly. Then more sincerely, "Good luck."

They muttered their thanks, and off they went, Toni just watching their backs as they went off on an adventure.

Without her.

The past fucking sucked so far.

But maybe she could show them what she could do later.

Yeah. Yeah, she could do that.

She smiled at the thought. She could run with the best of them—or, well, she could with her suit, at least. But it wasn't like she was helpless out of the suit either. She'd turned the tables on a number of kidnappers in her thirty-eight years of life, even as a child.

Nope. Not helpless.

Jarvis—oh how she missed the  _real_  Jarvis—had arranged for her to have hand-to-hand lessons as a child. Actually, he'd arranged for a  _lot_  more than that, including shooting lessons with his wife, so that she could better protect Toni. And damn if Mrs. Jarvis hadn't been amazing with that shotgun of hers… But hand to hand was the main thing, and boxing was her favorite, and the one she'd continued well into adulthood. At least until recently, after… after  _fucking Afghanistan_ —she practically growled at the thought—when she started to train in mixed combat. Mixed martial arts, Happy said. Whatever.

Fact was, she could kick ass.

She'd show fucking  _Rogers_.

It was forty minutes later, as she was making another sweep with the binoculars over the lands around the Hydra outpost, that a convoy of three large military trucks came around the bend in the road on the opposite side of the facility.

And there was no doubt they were Hydra.

There was no change in the feelings coming through the thin bond. They must not have notice. Bucky must have gone  _inside_.

Oh  _fuck_.

And then she realized she didn't have anything she could use to indicate to the Howling Commandos that something was wrong. In her ire she hadn't even thought to ask if they had a whistle or a bird call or a light or  _anything_  that she could use to notify them.

 _Double fuck_.

Toni backed away slowly from the ledge, careful not to rustle the underbrush and bushes, and then she raced towards the motorcycles, mind already planning what weapons left behind would be of the most use to her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will preface this by saying that writing action is hard. But I still had lots and lots of fun writing this.
> 
> I very rarely write with anything other than instrumental movie/tv/game scores, but for this it seemed only fitting to play 'Blood On My Name' by The Brothers Bright on repeat while I wrote. If any of you watch The Blacklist, this was played while Red went around and kicked ass.
> 
> Thank you to Perry_Downing and grliegirl for stepping in and filling Annaelle's beta shoes in a truly admirable way. Annaelle isn't done with exams for another week, but I will have something for you soon after she's all done! Good luck, darling!
> 
> And with that, I hope you enjoy. :D Let me know what you think!

_Shit_.

_Shit, fuck, shit—_

Calm down…  _calm_! Toni told herself, interrupting her own internal monologue. Or rather, interrupting her internal freak out.

She could do this. She could—even without her suit she could do this. She was smart enough to figure out a way, at least.

The motorcycles had been left a fair distance into the forest, away from the Hydra base, camouflaged by bushes a dozen yards off of the back road they'd traveled on. It took her nearly five minutes of running to get there. She might have been able to run faster, once upon a time, but the arc reactor had done irreparable damage to her lung size and strength—and for running full out you definitely needed those things to be at an optimum level of health.

Which hers weren't.

But it wasn't like she couldn't overcome that little hurdle all on her own. She'd faced worse odds.

Five minutes wasn't the three minutes she likely could have made the run in, however, and that thought grated on her even as she was trying to remember all the weapons she'd seen—and had guessed—going into their bags or hanging off of racks on the side of the bikes, and which ones were likely to still be there.

That thought was spinning in there, knowing that every second she delayed was another second that Hydra had the advantage.

And she hadn't felt anything from either man in that small little spot in her brain that was their nascent bond. Ever since they'd first touched skin to skin, there had been a little part of her mind that was constantly aware of them, and could  _feel_  them, when they were awake or asleep. But this… there was nothing except the knowledge that they were both alive.

Something was definitely wrong.

Well,  _more_  wrong than a Hydra convoy unexpectedly showing up.

Toni nearly turned the wrong way at the creek they'd passed on the way to the top of the ridge. She paused for a moment, shoulders heaving as she tried to pull air into her distressed lungs— _Christ_ , she really wished she had stayed in even slightly better shape—as she turned her head back and forth, finally settling on a direction, and then she was off again. The cool air of the afternoon was a blessing, but the borrowed military boots had her feet moving around too much inside of them.

She'd live.

The men might not.

Arguably, they should survive anyway, because the Howling Commandos survived the war—aside from their captain and one of their sergeants—but what if Toni's mere presence in the past had already caused irreversible damage to the timeline? What if they had approached this base differently because of her? What if they had—

"Shut the fuck up," she snarled at herself.

She had enough shit on her mind, and knew herself enough, that she couldn't afford to get lost in the mire that was  _that_  line of questioning.

She nearly tumbled over one of the motorcycles but she caught sight of it at the last second, skidding to a stop right before she hit it.

She quickly divested herself of her borrowed jacket, leaving herself clad in just her Black Sabbath t-shirt, her sweats, and the borrowed boots and socks. The jacket would have been useful to wear to keep ammo close at hand, but it was long in the sleeves and too baggy and thus would get in the way if she needed to do some close combat. It would do well enough if she filled it up and brought it along with her, dumping it in a spot she could easily come back to.

Choosing not to disturb the branches covering the bikes unless she absolutely needed to, Toni started to root through the saddlebags, pulling things out and strewing them haphazardly upon the ground as she came across anything interesting or that may be of use.

Only a minute of frantic searching later, Toni stepped back and surveyed what was lying in front of her in the light that was able to pierce the tree canopy above.

"Hot  _damn_ ," Toni whispered to herself. "These guys sure know how to pack a punch. Oh  _this_  is going to be fun!" She let herself laugh, just for a moment, and then set to quickly grabbing what guns, knives, explosives, and ammo she might possibly use, pocketing them in the jacket or in the two pockets of her sweatpants. She tightened the drawstring so she wouldn't suddenly give someone a—admittedly spectacular—view of her ass, and then slung Barnes' backup rifle over her head, settling it comfortably on her back.

Toni took a deep breath, eyes darting over the other items strewn about, and then glanced at her watch. "Ah fuck, JARVIS, I wish I could hear your voice right now. But  _shit_ , I need to be quiet for once in my superhero career, y'know? I wish I had my suit. I wish I had  _you_. But I can't. Not right now." She twisted her lips in something passable as a small smile. "Maybe later, okay?"

Then she took off running again.

She spared a single thought towards how fucking  _ridiculous_  it was for her to be running with fucking grenades and bombs bouncing around in the jacket she held in her arms, but dismissed it pretty quickly. She'd placed them as carefully as she could and made sure the jacket was wrapped well so that they wouldn't move around.

They were built to be transported, at least. Except she wasn't quite so sure about that… whatever it was that she had grabbed out of Dernier's bag.

Well… she liked living on the edge.

A rather manic grin pulled at her lips for a moment before she was back to trying not to pass out from running so hard and so quickly.

Finally, she reached the ridge and crouched down to view what was happening down there, outside the base.

She was just in time to see the tail end of a group of soldiers running inside the compound, their shouts loud enough to hear from where she was.

" _Fuck_ ," Toni bit out.

They'd left behind a few guards who stood by the three trucks from the convoy, their eyes constantly roving. They were holding weapons she'd never seen before that were—

Blue. Blue like her fucking arc reactor. "Christ, no wonder Ste—Rogers accused me of being Hydra," she muttered, not liking the idea that she might have been wrong for going off on him the way she had.

Whatever. No time for that.

Right.

"Okay… what do I do? Come on Toni, use that fucking brain of yours," she chastised herself, even as her mind whirred. "You're letting the fact that you're used to your suit now keep you from backdoor tactics—wait. That's it!" Toni barely kept her voice down at the last moment, her mind finally settling on something.

Iron Man tactics.

All flash, no subtlety to speak of.

Toni grinned, and then pushed the jacket aside a little more, pulling the rifle from her back by its sling. She set it down, barrel on the jut of earth that rose up again right before it dipped down into the valley. It was enough of a lip that Toni didn't need a tripod to act as her gun rest, and she splayed herself down on her stomach—propped up on her elbows so that she didn't put pressure on the arc reactor—so that she could see through the fixed scope of the M1C. Not as accurate as a scope sighted in for her, but it would do in a pinch.

It wasn't a bad gun, she thought idly. But she could do better.

_Had_  done better, in fact.

The arc reactor was an excellent reminder of her weaponry-filled past.

"No time for this, what the fuck, Toni?" she said. "Okay, let's see…"

She peered through the scope. Three guards. She could definitely do this. Her father and Jarvis both had made sure she knew her guns, and she had kept her skills sharp.

She could do this. But it had to be quick.

Rolling and popping her neck to relieve the pressure that had built up there, Toni finally breathed in, breathed out… breathed in…

And on the last exhale, she pulled the trigger.

"Shit," she muttered, but kept her calm, readying herself for another shot quickly as her mind promptly adjusted for the wind that was a little stronger in the valley than where she was perched approximately 150 yards out and up. She missed the first time due to said fact, but she got him through the throat the second time.

There was no time to gloat; she simply adjusted the rifle slightly, sighted in again, and then—

The second went down, a bullet through his temple—what kind of fucking  _moron_  didn't wear a helmet?

Finally the third went down, again through the head, within twenty seconds of the first shot, her brain told her.

"Excellent," Toni breathed out on her last shaky exhale. She waited a few moments to see if anyone was going to come out. Once assured that the coast was clear, she stood and slung the rifle onto her back again, picking up the jacket as she went.

She needed to get the others out of the base, but on her timetable. Thus the guards needing to go.

"'Iron man, yes, Toni Stark, not recommended' my left  _foot_!" Toni whooped. "Take  _that_ , cabbage patch!"

She let herself bask momentarily in the exhilaration, the rush of it all, and then half ran, half slid down the slope and into the valley, her mind reaching out and brushing against the blankness that was still her connection to the two men.

Her soulmates.

Wow. Again, wow.

"No fucking time for that, Toni," she snapped, even as she jogged from the base of the slope and towards the three trucks. "Save them, rescue the fuckers, crow about the silly woman from the future having to rescue their antiquated asses, and  _then_  think about it. Okay? Okay."

Flinging the back cloth of one of the trucks open, she stared inside at the benches. The empty benches. The ones that were probably inside.

Hopefully the trucks hadn't been full, but they probably were.

"Ah shit," she bit out.

Same with the second.

The third, however…

Toni tilted her head, knowing the clock was ticking, but still unable to look away.

The third truck was filled with tech. Some beyond what she knew the 1940s could offer. It was—it…  _damn_  if it wasn't alluring. Calling her name.

She wanted to jump in and peruse, take her time with it, see what there was to offer, and understand why in the  _hell_  she wasn't familiar with a number of the pieces she could see just from her spot on the ground, peering in.

She knew old tech—and this wasn't anything she knew.

How could she have missed  _this_?

Nope. No time. Damn it.

She pouted and then quickly looked inside—rather covetously—one last time, trying to see if anything was combustible—she couldn't tell with a hundred percent certainty, but she didn't think there was anything. She wanted to draw attention outside, not blow herself or the base sky high before the Howlies could get out.

She sort of wanted to survive all this. That really wasn't too much to ask for, was it?

Shaking herself out of her thoughts and setting herself back on task, Toni backed up towards one of the cinderblock sheds beside the main building, set the jacket and the rifle safely down around the corner, and laid out five hand grenades within easy reach. Baratol-filled Mills bombs from Britain. Not bad. A far smaller fragmentation pattern than anything she had made, but for WWII… a pretty good choice, actually.

Toni took a knee. She then picked up one of the grenades, eyeballing it quickly. She wasn't quite sure what the delay of the mechanism was with such a quick look, but, well, she supposed she'd find out. She'd plan for four seconds instead of seven.

She yanked the pin from the first— _one_ —threw it as far as she could, picked up the second— _two_ —pulled the pin and threw it in the same direction— _three_ —and then used her bent leg to throw herself behind the shed—

_Four_.

And the first grenade went off.

_Five_.  _Six_.

And the second.

Following close on the heels of the second explosion was a huge rush of heat, and she could see the grass rustling in a strong gust of wind even as shrapnel flew by.

Toni closed her eyes at the first glimpse of the shrapnel, and as she heard the thuds of some pieces being buried in the dirt, she found herself shoving her head between her knees.

She heard the blood rushing in her ears and she felt dizzy, but she was able to keep herself calm, keep herself grounded, by brushing her mind loosely against the part of her brain that was the connection to her two soulmates. She nearly hadn't tried, but as she felt panic starting to tug at her, starting to drown her—as the images and sounds of Afghanistan started to sink their claws into her in ways that hadn't happened to her since before she'd made her armor. After the cave, after she'd gained a layer of protection that she currently didn't have…

As she felt the panic pull at her, she could feel the two men wake up—or come out of whatever the hell had happened to them—and she latched onto the feeling like a lifeline. Like a buoy, keeping her head out of the ocean depths.

They weren't aware of her, and she could barely feel them, in return, but that had been pretty much normal for the—wow, was it really just less than a day that she'd known them?

She wasn't quite sure what was normal, right then.

Pretty much everything was  _abnormal_.

About  _everything_.

But at least the abnormality had saved her from collapsing in an utterly embarrassing way. At least she'd been given something else to think about.

Pepper would say—

No, best not to think about that. That was a whole  _other_  kettle of fish.

She had other things to focus on.

Other things to blow up—and if that wasn't the best therapy, then she didn't know what was.

Talk therapy? Her? No thanks! Been there, got the t-shirt, didn't fucking  _work_.

Not sure exactly how much time had been lost—the roar of the fire was still going strong—Toni finally peeked her head around the corner to stare at the blaze.

Huh.

Well, that wasn't really supposed to happen with a fragmentation grenade. It must have been whatever was in that third Hydra truck.

At least she hadn't  _died_.

Though it  _might_  have been worth it—she hadn't had this much fun in a while, untainted by  _actually_  nearly dying, and it felt good.

She took a moment to bask in the glory of the destruction of enemy property—and enemy  _death_ , but she didn't fucking feel bad, because they were fucking  _Nazis_ , and Hydra at that—and then she heard the sound of raised voices.

Oh  _goodie_.

More Nazi ass to kick.

Or shoot. Whatever worked. She didn't much care as long as they were dead.

Toni grabbed two knives and stuck them in the top of her combat boots—thankfully in their sheaths—along with the other two that were in each boot, and then paused a moment to grab the rifle as her gun of choice. At least for the moment.

Kneeling back down in the grass, Toni tucked herself against the side of the shed so that she had the best possible angle with the least amount of exposure—and waited.

A group of—at least, because she wasn't sure how many might still be coming—nine Hydra soldiers came out of the base. The first two Toni was able to pick off easily, as them and two others had ran out and then immediately stopped, but the remaining five were much more cautious after the first two had suddenly keeled over with the sound of her rifle slightly louder than the abating flames.

The other two who had accompanied the now absolutely  _dead_ men had thrown themselves back towards the rest of the group, and Toni could tell that they were trying to regroup and figure out what to do.

Seven to go. At least for now.

She couldn't let them go back into the base and gather any possible remaining soldiers to come. Sure, she would like as many of them to come outside and away from the Howlies—she  _still_  wasn't sure what had happened to Barnes and Rogers—but now that the element of surprise had been taken from her with, y'know, the  _explosions_  and  _fire_  and, well,  _gunfire_ —yep, now they were shooting back at her, hooray!—she'd much rather deal with them in small groups.

If there were more of them, that is.

Always best to assume there were. It's how you stayed alive, she'd learned.

Plus, it was like supervillains had some bunny breeding program for their goons. It was, frankly, rather  _ridiculous_  how many people moonlit as Henchman #X.

She was able to take down two more before they realized what she was hiding behind, and three started to shoot back at her with their pistols—joke was on them because  _she_  knew what the accuracy range was on those things—as the other two turned away from the entrance to the base and disappeared back into the halls of the facility.

Well, that probably wasn't a very good thing.

She needed to get rid of these three as soon as she could.

Toni grabbed another grenade, knowing she wouldn't quite reach the entrance that was about sixty feet away. She still stood up, pulled the pin, and then chucked it as hard as she could over the shed in the general vicinity of the base's entrance.

She could practically  _feel_  the fragmentation occur, and a grin pulled her lips back in what was probably more a snarl than a smile.

Looking around the corner, she could see one man down, and the other two were nowhere in sight. They had likely been more observant than their now-dead fellow soldier and had ducked back into the base.

Toni figured it was as good a time as any to start moving towards the base's entrance. There was another, smaller set of doors that was used as an emergency exit for the base, according to the Howlies' information, apparently, but she wasn't too worried about them coming out and circling around her. It could only be reached from the lowest level of the compound, so anyone who knew that something was going on up here would have a long way to go to flank her.

She placed the rifle down on the ground, picked up two handguns—double-checking to see if they were loaded first, because  _wouldn't that be embarrassing_ , and making sure the correct ammunition was in her pocket—and then swiftly moved out from behind the shed, crouched low as she ran. It was always such a fucking awkward way to run, she thought idly, but it was safest in this situation.

"That is a  _mighty_  fine fire, if I do say so myself," Toni half-laughed at herself as she ran. "Which, of course, I  _do_  say— _yikes_!"

Toni darted behind part of one of the truck's engine blocks as she saw two soldiers confidently step out from the base—and who the  _fuck_  wouldn't be confident when you sported a goddamn  _death ray_ —and fire in her direction.

It was a fucking death ray—or ray gun, whatever—because the grass that hadn't been scorched already had just, well,  _died_.

The blue part only worked in its favor, as well.

She shuddered to think what would happen if she was hit by one of those, and then suddenly remembered a little tidbit her godmother had accidentally let slip decades ago—in the future?

Ugh, what a headache.

But she remember Aunt Peggy telling her about something blue, some weapon, and then her father had shot her a quelling look. Toni had only been four at the time, and she had thought Peggy was talking about a weapon  _painted_  blue… it wasn't until just now that she made the connection.

So  _that_  was what Aunt Peggy had been talking about. The powerful  _blue_  weapon that she and others had been so afraid of.

Well shit. If her Aunt  _Peggy_  had been afraid—or, well, as afraid as Peggy  _could_  be afraid…

Toni suddenly found herself wishing she'd grabbed one of the remaining grenades before she'd run over here like an idiot, but she'd make do with what she had.

She took a firm grip of one of the pistols, setting the other on the ground because she knew she couldn't quite handle the recoil with one hand—the guns were older than her and… wait,  _ugh_ , time travel—and snuck a glance around the edge of the engine block.

They must have stepped inside the protection of the entrance again, because there was nobody there.

Then she darted out, running as fast as she could towards the open doorway. The two men with the blue guns stepped out, and time seemed to slow down, and her breathing seemed too calm, too controlled for someone who wasn't so sure they'd be able to survive the next few seconds.

She raised her gun with both hands, fired, hit the one on the left in the shoulder— _shit_ , these guns really  _kicked_ —from about fifteen feet out, pulled the hammer back and hit him in the skull with the next shot.

But she'd wasted a shot with the unfamiliar gun, and the second man was turning towards her, and her eyes widened as they met his equally-wide gaze, and she had a moment of surreality to realize that the man with a damn  _death ray slash ray gun_  was just as frightened as she was and then—

The man simply  _crumpled_.

Toni nearly got shot in the face because she was so startled, but she was nothing if not a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants kind of girl, and so she was able to meet the two remaining two soldiers—well, one at least—with a bullet to the heart—or lungs, she didn't quite care which because they were both as deadly out here in the countryside.

One more.

But then her gun was knocked from her grip and she was forced to grapple with the remaining soldier for his own. Toni blocked his arm with her forearm as he tried to swing his gun around to shoot her after using it to knock her own out of her hands. She then reached over and gripped his arm with her free hand, pulling the first arm around so she could grab his with that hand as well, and then  _twisted_.

The man shrieked in a decidedly pleasing way, and Toni released her grip just long enough to reach for a knife in each boot, coming back up quickly with two underhand thrusts.

He hit her with a glancing blow high up on her jaw, but it was only enough to sting and throb and—okay, well, maybe he'd hit her just a little harder than she'd thought he had. But she still completed the arc of her thrusts, with only a slight hesitation.

The nauseating feel—she'd never liked knives, but had been happy to know how to use them on a couple of notable occasions—of the knives sliding into the man's gut through his clothes was cut short as a bullet tore through one side of the man's head and out the other.

At that point she had sort of been expecting it—was even glad of it.

It meant Bucky was alright. Because who the hell else besides James Barnes was confident enough to make that shot with a breeze in the valley, at least 350 yards out at his location, with a moving target, and one who was grappling hand to hand with an ally.

A soulmate.

Because if he'd hit her, even with their lesser soulbond, and killed her…

Toni pulled herself away from the thought and straightened up, giving a thumbs up in the direction from where the bullet had come from, and sent a  _thanks_  towards him through their bond.

Even if he wasn't able to feel it, well, it was the thought that counted, right?

She was sure he'd seen the thumbs up through his scope, however. And probably the big grin she had plastered on her face, half from the adrenaline rush, and half from gratefulness, and half from nerves.

Wait. That was three halves—

"Shut up, Toni." Even the sound of her voice was breathless, and she took a moment—but only one—before she composed herself. She gripped the knife in her hand, and was about to pick up her dropped gun when movement caught her eye in the doorway barely ten feet away.

Her arm was pulled back to throw one of her blades before she could even think, but the sight of Falsworth had her skewing her angle at the last second.

The blade clattered against the stone wall just to the side of the man, and Toni was very nearly fired upon.

She likely would've been if she hadn't yelled out, "It's me!" immediately after she spotted him. And, well, cut her some slack—maybe using her  _name_  would have been a better idea, because how the hell did they know who 'me' was?

She dropped her other knife and then held up her empty hands for him to see, and he nodded at her once before calling out behind him, "It's just Toni, boys. Move it!"

The men were still on alert, keeping their weapons at the ready just in case there were more Hydra soldiers around, she knew. They slowly exited the base, but kept against the building with Morita keeping an eye down the hall they'd just exited.

As soon as Toni caught a glimpse of Steve Rogers being supported between Gabe Jones and Timothy Dugan, she moved towards them quickly, all other thoughts escaping her besides  _him_ —and wasn't  _that_  an event to be celebrated, Rhodey would've said.

He was awake, though looking rather pale and dazed, and there was blood covering his uniform in pretty much most places that there wasn't a tear or a hole or a stain from grime and dirt. His shield was being carried by Morita.

She was barely aware of the men whistling as they surveyed the destruction she—and Bucky; she could give him like… five percent of the credit—had left in her wake, more focused on Steve and ascertaining for herself that he was alright.

"What happened?" she asked softly, one hand reaching out towards him before she snatched it back.

Mask.  _Mask, mask, mask_! she yelled at herself internally. But thinking one thing wasn't the same as doing it.

Toni was only able to put a neutral expression on, instead of the fake one she'd been gunning—hah—for.

There was just something about this man that pushed all her buttons and lowered all of her walls. She could tell that already. They would either get along great, or kill each other before Steve even had the chance of killing himself in that stupid fucking plane—nope she wasn't bitter at all, what're you talking about?

Steve was giving her a funny look, even through the pain of his injury, and she had to assume that someone had already answered her question without her even hearing them.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?" she asked as evenly as she could.

"Got stabbed," Steve answered her. "By a fu—by a sword. Who the he—" He cleared his throat. "Who has a sword, anymore?"

"Well, at least your wit wasn't a casualty," Toni replied dryly, the man's near-cussing humoring her greatly and allowing her to step back, clutching her hands together behind her back. "And you are going to be  _fun_  trying to get to swear!"

Dugan laughed loudly, and Toni just lifted an eyebrow at him before she turned and started walking back towards the shed to retrieve her stockpile of goodies. "So that's what happened to you and Barnes." Whoops, well if the Howlies hadn't figured it out already, they would now. "At least your serum will heal you up quickly, you lucky super soldier," she added quickly, before she could think, eager to move on from the topic of her obvious rejection.

Only silence greeted her and she paused, looking back over her shoulder at the group of men staring at her with expressions ranging from shocked to angry to upset to suspicious—the last, of course, being fucking  _Steve_.

"What did I say?" she asked, honestly bewildered for one of the few times in her life.


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as he saw the men— _his_  men, his boys, his  _fucking_  idiots, thank God—emerge from the tomb he'd feared for a fleeting moment the base would become, Bucky grabbed his rifle and high-tailed it down to where Toni and the other Howlies were facing off.

Again.

What the  _hell_  had he done to deserve this insanity?

Could they not be  _civil_  for a damn second?

Thankfully he was adept at avoiding obstacles and so he made it through the forest and the brush, and down the steep valley hillside without any incident. He was quick, so hopefully he could stem off the feeling of anger and incredulity that Steve was obviously feeling.

He was, thankfully, all too used to Steve being angry and incredulous about something—damned punk with his goddamned  _opinions_  getting into fights all the damn time—and relished in the familiar feeling. The shock of pain and unconsciousness from Steve's end of the bond had overwhelmed him with its unfamiliarity and left him so dazed he could barely see straight.

It had never happened like that before—not even when Steve had been sick when they were little and Father Johnson had given Stevie his last rites—the first two times—and it certainly hadn't happened during a  _mission._

He'd have to have words with Steve.

Thankfully he'd managed to pull himself together in time to catch the mayhem that Toni had wreaked.

A fucking sight to behold, honestly.

And then he'd gathered himself together, took aim, and quickly taken out two of Hydra's scum soldiers.

Then… then there was only Steve.

He'd caught sight of his Stevie, and his entire world had tilted, his heart pumping so loudly that all he could hear was the loud rush of blood in his ears. He'd seen the way Steve was being supported by the guys, the way his uniform was torn and bloodied and all he'd been able to think about was that  _he had to get to him_.

_Protect, protect, protect._

The fact that Steve was most likely spectacularly putting his foot in his mouth again did not register until he was zigzagging through the trees, trying to remind his frantic hindbrain, which was crying out for the reassuring touch of his soulmate, that Steve would already be healing.

Even if he did put his foot in his mouth—which he would, fucking dumbass that he was—Toni and the Howlies would have no issue berating him.

Thankfully Steve saw him coming, and the man snapped his jaw shut only to let it blossom into a relieved grin at the sight of Bucky barreling towards him.

He flicked his gaze towards Toni briefly, the itch in their bond demanding he reassure himself of her health and safety too, and noticed a small smile on her face, though guarded, composed… protective.

He had little time to analyze the smile though, skidding to a stop inches before he'd slam into Steve.

Steve first.

Always Steve first.

Dugan and Jones released Steve's upper arms the moment Bucky came within reach and stepped aside, both too used to Steve and Bucky's frantic energy after battle.

Steve barely managed to utter a soft 'thank you' before Bucky's hands were  _finally_ on him, and he could reassure himself by pressing one hand to Steve's chest, just above the large, alarming tear in Steve's uniform, counting his steady heartbeat as he cradled Steve's jaw with his other hand, thumb absently rubbing at a spot of dirt on his soulmate's cheek.

He took a moment to steady himself before gingerly moving his hands across Steve's body, ascertaining that he was alright—or, at least, that he wasn't in danger of keeling over and bleeding out.

"God damn it, Steve," Bucky exclaimed as he bent over to peel back the layers of Steve's  _stupid_  uniform where it had been severed above his right hip, leaving a nasty gash across Steve's creamy skin. "What did I tell ya about picking fights ya can't win, ya damn punk? Hell, what did they hit you with? I felt it all the way up in my nest—knocked me clean out, Stevie! Musta packed one hell of a punch!" He peered closer, and then looked up at Steve, who was actively trying to look anywhere but at Bucky.

Bucky had enough experience with Steve to know that meant one thing.

He narrowed his eyes and then slowly straightened himself up from his crouch. "Didya get stabbed with something again, Stevie? You know I'll ask Dugan and he won't lie ta me."

He nodded towards the man, who looked less than pleased to be included in the interaction, and glared at his goddamned stupid punk, waiting for the answer he  _knew_  would come.

"A sword," the blond murmured.

What.

"A  _what_?" Bucky drew back a bit, startled, peering at Steve.

"A  _sword_ ," Steve repeated, a bit louder, that stubborn set to his jaw Bucky knew so well starting to take shape on his features.

Dugan suddenly interjected, rather gleefully, Bucky thought, "He ran into a room without the shield because he thought Dernier needed some immediate assistance."

Steve practically deflated, and his pale cheeks gained a hint of pink embarrassment to them beneath the blood and dirt.

"You  _what_?" Bucky asked incredulously. "Why'dya have to go and pull a dumb stunt like that, you dumb punk?"

But Bucky knew.

He was intimately aware of what Steve was like and, honestly, he wouldn't have him any other way.

Someday soon, though, Bucky was afraid Steve would run into a fight he couldn't win without Bucky to pull him out, and that would be the last of the luck he'd been bestowed with. Bucky never wanted to see that day, but at the same time… Steve was  _Steve_.

And that… that was Steve, too.

It would not stop him from scolding his stupid, brilliant, idiot within an inch of his life, though—and the men, too, when he was finished with Steve.

He had learned from the best—Sarah Rogers had been formidable when chewing out her boy for picking fights and coming home with bloody lips and bruised knuckles.

"No wait, never mind." Bucky threw his hands in the air. "I don't even care—I oughta tan your hide, you punk!"

"Buck..." Steve smiled at him, all soft lips and blue eyes, even if it was a little pained, and Bucky couldn't help but to swoop in and plant a soft kiss on his lips, and then one to his forehead before he pulled away.

"Alright, well whatever the hell else you lot were planning to fight about can wait," Bucky ordered. "Dernier's been gone a few minutes and he's walking towards us at a fairly fast clip, so it's probably safe to assume the charges are set and we need to  _leave_."

Everyone set to gathering their gear, including some of the readily available Hydra tech, and started walking as swiftly as they could with an injured soldier—and even enhanced individuals like Steve walked slower when they'd been stabbed with a goddamn  _sword_ —towards their bikes.

Halfway through the forest towards their vehicles, the base blew.

It was always satisfying to blow up a Hydra base, but the look on Dernier's face was nearly to die for.

But Toni… The glimpse of Toni's practically feral grin when the place blew was something to behold as well.

* * *

It was late evening by the time they pulled into an abandoned barn. It was one they'd used a number of times in the past, and was boarded up well enough that they could risk a small fire. It was a good thing, too, because the night was set to be a cold one, and they would need to bunch up together near the fire, and use as much of the hay that wasn't moldy as they could for warmth and insulation.

November outside of Ravenna wasn't always so harsh, they'd been told, but they had also been warned to expect the occasional freeze.

By the time Steve had pulled himself off of the back of Bucky's bike, stiff and sore, his ego only a little bruised when Bucky had to help him off, his anger had cooled. Just like his wound had healed—mostly, but he would be right as rain after sleep and a night's rest.

Once he and Bucky—he loved his man, but there was no way he was sitting idle without ensuring himself that the location was secure, and so Bucky tagged along, walking closer than Steve would like right then—returned from scouting the perimeter, Dugan went to set himself up outside, and Steve and his  _shadow_  walked into the barn to join the rest of the Howlies… and Toni.

Toni who was an enigma, despite—or perhaps because of—the little she had told them about herself. She had helped them, and yet she had no reason to help them other than the bond that had etched itself into their minds and consciousness, but that had not stopped bondmates from attacking each other before…

Steve would never forget the look on little Dolores Crawley's face when her soulmate sweetheart turned around and left her for Mrs. Lahey's rich widowed cousin.

Soulbonds did not guarantee loyalty, contrary to popular belief.

But, Toni  _had_  helped. She had seemed out of place, out of  _time_ —which would be an unbelievable concept except for… well,  _Hydra_. And the serum, too, truth be told. Everything he'd seen so far actually made the concept more plausible.

She was hiding  _something_ , though. Or, at least,  _keeping_  secrets. He'd had time to think while Bucky rode and, after grouching to himself that he'd had to let Toni ride  _his_  motorcycle, Bucky's orders, he'd pondered the entire concept of time travel.

He wasn't stupid. When he was small, no one had even stopped to consider that he was intelligent—just that he seemed to be a troublemaker, righteous indignation be damned. Never mind that he observed, he watched, he  _knew_  what was going on amongst every family, every kid, every bully around him. He watched, and then he  _acted_ , protecting those who deserved it, and starting fights with  _those_  who deserved it.

People preferred to look at the fighting, the poverty, the sickness, and his overall weakness. They preferred to say it was because he'd grown up without a father—that his mother, God rest her soul, should have done right by her boy and remarried, even though it was a miracle that she survived a broken soulbond altogether.

Joseph Rogers had died a hero, but no one liked to look at it like that.

And when he became…  _this_ , Captain America… first he had been their damn dancing monkey, and all anybody saw was the propaganda.

Becoming a  _real_  soldier had been the turning point, but even so, outside of his men and the 107th, and the command group he reported to with the SSR… people still saw the persona, the muscles, the blond and blue-eyed man he had become.

They saw what they wanted to see.

Bucky liked to tease that people were finally seeing the part of him that Bucky had always seen, and that made it… better, somehow. But also as if the world was peering into something private between the two of them.

And Steve Rogers was a jealous man.

Hence… this.

Bucky and Steve checked each other over for injuries in the corner, and then watched as Dernier approached Toni, asking in hushed tones if she were alright and if she needed any of their medical supplies.

Her answer was obvious even if they couldn't hear her, the set of her shoulders and jaw much like how Bucky liked to describe Steve. Stubborn. Just like him.

Maybe they were more a match than he'd thought at first—but two stubborn people could be like a fire in a Brooklyn tenement. Barely controllable, and often destructive and deadly.

It… didn't necessarily have to be that way, however.

Surely they could learn to get along, at least as long as it took for them to part ways?

"Toni," he called out, just loud enough for her to hear. When she looked his way, he motioned at Bucky and him. "Come sit with us."

She looked as if she were about to ignore him, them, but then she was moving towards them and plunking herself down beside them, though closest to the fire.

Fine with him; he'd had a hard time truly feeling cold since the serum.

Speaking of…

He opened his mouth to speak, but Bucky had reached his hand forward and touched her cheek, lightly turning it towards him. It was then that Steve finally saw the bruise that was swiftly mottling the tanned skin of Toni's cheek, and into her unruly hairline.

Steve was surprised by what Bucky said, then. "You'll be alright. I'm sure you've taken worse in stride before this."

It wasn't his soulmate's usual coddling that Steve had been subjected to hundreds of times. No, instead… and with the look on Toni's face, he understood…

Toni was a survivor, and pointing out her injuries was belittling of her experiences.

He could understand that.

Steve shot Bucky a look as he pulled his hand back, but he ignored what had just happened rather than calling further attention to it. But the simple care, the simple touch and words, they put into perspective what Steve needed to say.

"Thank you," Steve said softly.

Toni blinked at him, her blank mask easing back over her features. And  _that_  frustrated him, for reasons he could not even begin to comprehend. .

When she didn't respond, he tried again. "Thank you for stepping in when you did. Bucky says you really knew what you were doing, and held your own against at least nine soldiers, and, well…" He looked off to the side, not quite able to meet her gaze.

Dames. No matter where or when they came from, he was still totally inept at speaking with dames.

"Just… thanks. You helped. A lot." And then he clammed up, looking at her, then Bucky, then the wall, then the fire, then Bucky, and finally back to Toni, just in time to catch a flippant look take over her features.

"No problem-o at all, Cap. Always wanted to rescue a dude-in-distress. Thanks for giving me the opportunity!" And then she winked— _winked!_ —at him!

Bucky snorted, and Steve was left gaping, wondering what the hell she was implying.

No, he  _knew_  what she was saying.

He just couldn't help but feel flustered, and so he grasped for something— _anything_ —that would get him out of the situation.

Well… they  _did_  have some things that needed discussing.

And they'd left them too long.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, and then immediately regretted it, realizing that his hands were still stained and greasy from their fight in the Hydra base. He sighed, but carried on, leaving the smear of grease where it was.

They'd all get a proper cleaning tomorrow, anyway.

"Look…" Steve started, carefully thinking of his words. "I'm sorry we all sort of… got angry when you mentioned the serum. The… project." At this point he could tell that the rest of the Howlies were listening in from their places not too far away at the fire. He knew that they could hear, but, well… it's not like they had anything to hide from each other anymore.

Toni, on the other hand…"It's highly classified information. The boys aren't even supposed to know," he nodded towards his team, who diligently pretended they weren't eavesdropping.

He still wasn't looking her in the eye, instead focusing on the scuffed toe of her too large right boot. "It never even crossed my mind that someone from… you know—" He motioned vaguely with one hand, encompassing the concept of being from the  _future_. "—would have that sort of information. Is it… common knowledge in… where you come from?"

He was still struggling with that concept. He still hadn't seen enough to believe her one way or the other, but… she hadn't betrayed them yet.

 _Yet_.

"It's… not," Toni replied thoughtfully, and Steve was finally able to look up and meet her eyes. She was peering at him curiously, as if trying to gauge his reaction. He'd seen the same look many times—from friend and foe alike.

"I have… my father," and here her lips curled slightly upwards in disgust, and he wondered at that, confused and slightly upset, "worked on the project. Project Rebirth, the one Captain America was born from. I grew up with tales of you, of Bucky, of the Howling Commandos. You all were practically family members, albeit ones we never saw. Except for… Peggy." She said the name carefully, as if there was more to that story, but Steve didn't interject.

Toni was finally giving them info. Hopefully true information.

"I was born in 1970, actually, after most of you had… moved elsewhere. Moved on with your lives. I still saw Aunt Peggy pretty regularly, however. She was a  _blast_." Her eyes lit up with fondness, enough that they could see it in the shadows cast by the fire.

"Was?" Steve asked.

Toni simply looked at him levelly, obviously thinking of the appropriate response. Finally, she said, softly, almost regretfully, "I came from 2009. You do the math. It can mean a lot of things, but… time eats away at us all, Cap, and that doesn't necessarily mean death."

The wording, what she said, it meant something. Toni was trying to say something without making it obvious, but he had no time to ponder it, instead chasing what he saw in Toni in that moment. There was something shadowed, something  _awful_ in her eyes, but she glanced away and then caught Bucky's gaze, holding it as if it were a competition. He couldn't gather anything from the small ember that was his bond to her, either, to see what that darkness in her eyes had been. She'd closed herself off tight, willfully or not.

"Project Rebirth wasn't common knowledge," she continued. "It was buried under myth and legend, basically. Rumor and propaganda. The real knowledge was mixed in—only the little they couldn't control, or wasn't harmful or damning or informative enough to release—so the general population never knew what was right from wrong. But my dad did. He knew, uh… Well, we as a family kept ties with the United States Army and the government. Many governments, in fact, but that's a story for another time. The SSR, too. When I took over the family company at twenty-one, I gained access to information I'd only ever dreamed of knowing. I sucked it all in like a sponge. One of those good ones, too, that could take in a whole  _bowl_  of water, practically. And you… the  _serum_ … was there. Everything that was top secret, and need-to-know, and even the stuff that they hadn't released."

Steve leaned back a little, drawing his lower lip between his teeth as he tried to process the information he'd been given. But it was okay, he had the time, and the ability to recall the conversation and its details at a moment's notice.

"So, yeah, I know about the serum. I know about what it did to you. A lot of that is pretty common knowledge, even now, but I even know about the healing properties, and the metabolism uptick, and the way it sharped all of your skills and senses. You can hear better, see better, smell better, even draw better. Everything. Even your… your soulbond is stronger."

Steve twitched at that. That had never been common knowledge. "I—" he began.

She cut him off before he could get very far with that though, speaking as rapid fire as she had been gearing up to just moments before. "Not even the brass knew about the true nature of your soulbond. Or even if they did, none of them wrote it down. No guesses, no nothing. I don't think even my dad knew. Everyone just assumed, or grew up being taught, that you both were platonic. You were revered as, as—yeah."

She suddenly shot a cheeky grin his way, one that lightened her eyes and made her look eons younger than her usual mask of indifference did, and added, "Though I'll bet Peggy knows, right?"

Steve spluttered a little, cheeks burning with heat as Bucky chuckled—and damn him; perpetrating a faux-relationship with Peggy to keep brass off their backs had been  _his_  idea, damn it.

Toni simply grinned again before her gaze again turned more somber and she said, "I'm not going to tell. I've kept many of my own secrets, and others', sometimes for decades, and ongoing still, even into the past. Even though I'm away from anyone who could be harmed by me telling those secrets… well, I don't really know that for sure, now do I? Maybe something I says here has serious repercussions on the future, even if those people don't exist yet. Hell, my mere presence has to be upsetting  _something_. I know it is. But I don't know what, and I can't wrap my mind around whether I'm in a paradoxical cycle or if what I do here… will change things. It's impossible to know and I'm practically  _killing_  my brain just thinking about it—and  _that_  is saying something."

Steve reached out and grabbed Bucky's hand with his own, holding it in the space between them. He hadn't… thought about it like that.

Actually, he hadn't even  _considered_  that at all.

And neither had Bucky, if the look on his face was any indication when he met Steve's eyes.

"I just—look," Toni continued, her voice quieting, "I'm honestly just as, or maybe even more, confused than you,  _any_  of you, as to what is going on with me practically appearing gift-wrapped at the rendezvous. I'm out of my depth, but I'm a smart cookie, and y'know…" Suddenly there was a gleam in her eye. "Honestly, how much harder can this be than showing up hungover at a takeover meeting two weeks after gaining ownership of the company,  _without Pepper_ , god forbid—I need to give that woman a raise…" She said wistfully. "But, I mean, come on! I was able to wrangle those assholes into giving me their company at two-thirds the value, all while they thought of me as some half-wit bimbo who suddenly had access to all of daddy's cash!" She glared at nothing, lost in the memory, but then a predatory grin crossed her lips, and Steve could tell this one was all her—nothing fake about it, whatsoever.

And wasn't that a scary thought.

"But no seriously!" Toni continued, remembering to keep her voice down at the last moment. "I walked in there with my short skirt, makeup a little mussed, hair up in a messy bun, no sleep for three days and booze still in my system, and I took them for everything they had!"

Bucky looked as if he was about to interject, and the Howlies were looking at Toni with a mixture of respect and humor, but Toni continued before anyone could say a thing, her voice softening to nearly a whisper, but with a thread of  _danger_ in it, and Steve couldn't help it—he found himself leaning in, listening closely to every word.

She was admittedly rather… fascinating.

In her own rather… crude manner.

"If I could survive three months in Afghanistan, tied to a car battery, and trounce the assholes—" Steve and Bucky were still catching up to her quick muttering, and had both opened their mouths to inquire as to what the  _hell_  she was talking about, but Toni just fluttered her hands and then spread them, cutting them off before they could speak, "—Long story, other time, it'll be  _fun_ —But seriously, if I can survive the fuckers who did this to me—" And here anger filled him and Buck up at the thought of anyone harming a woman, another  _person_ , in the way that Steve suspected Toni had been hurt , but they controlled themselves enough to keep following, "—then I can survive World War Two. If I could build my suit—"  _Suit? Steve pondered the odd use of the word_ , "—in a fucking  _cave_  and blow those fuckers sky high, I can survive time travel. I can survive. I can get home. I can… I can…" and she trailed off, looking rather distant. Contemplative and… sad.

It didn't look like she would be continuing her rambling.

Silence spread over them all like a blanket, everyone trying to catch up to what the woman had said, fast as she had spoken, and the soft crackle of the fire was the only thing that could be heard.

A few moments later, Bucky was the first to break the silence. "You're a hell of a dame, Toni, I'll give you that. I'd hate to get on your bad side, huh Stevie?"

The grunt Steve let out when Bucky elbowed him in the side was enough for Toni to draw in her own breath, eyes wide… and then she laughed, clear but soft, her eyes still sad but… better.

He didn't look too closely at why that mattered, beyond his general desire for people to be happy and free and protected.

Not that… well, not that Toni really needed protecting, honestly, but he couldn't help himself. It was just the way he was.

"So Toni…" Morita inquired, from the other side of the fire. Toni twisted around enough that she could look at him. "You said your father was part of Project Rebirth. That he knew Steve, knew  _us_ , enough to tell stories about us to his daughter. Who was he? Shouldn't we know who he was?  _Is_?"

Toni stared. And stared. And stared some more, the silence becoming stifling.

Then, "I think… I don't think that would be a good idea," she replied, back stiffening, eyes becoming shadowed and secretive as she looked away.

Steve didn't like secrets, but… he no longer thought she would harm them. Not deliberately, at least. And maybe someday soon she would open up to them, or at least to him and Bucky, about who her father was.

Is.

He was obviously still connected to the project, to know who they were, who the Howling Commandos were.

"That's alright, Toni," Steve said. "You can tell us if and when you're ready. As long as I, we, can trust you not to harm us, we can accept your need for secrecy. On some things."

She nodded at him, eyes still guarded, but looking less like she was about to bolt or lash out at them. "Glad we had this talk," she said jovially, suddenly clapping her hands together in an obvious attempt to distract them from the awkward note they'd stranded on. "Let's not do it again too soon, I'm exhausted. Sharing is  _tough_."

Steve could only roll his eyes, and Bucky huffed out a laugh at his side.

"Let's get some rest, men. Lady," he added belatedly, and caught a hint of a smile playing at Toni's lips.

Soon, the fire was banked, and the men curled up tight, knowing that they were in good hands with Dugan—and whoever took his place—patrolling the outside.

Steve curled up against Bucky, the other man pressed tight against his back and sharing his warmth, arm wrapped around Steve and pressed against the wound that was already almost fully healed. It was one of his favorite things about the cold, sharing heat between the two of them.

But he couldn't help the fact that his eyes were trained on the small form of Toni curled up close to the fire, at least a foot of space on each side of her.

He couldn't help but to think that she looked lonely.

And he knew that he was partially responsible. Because she  _was_  lonely. A woman out of time, away from anyone she knew, any of her comforts and away from her home. Stuck in the middle of a war, with soulmates who hadn't accepted her.

He couldn't help but hate himself just a little, and though this hatred felt a little different from everything else, it was still something he was intimately familiar with.

He didn't think he'd ever quite escape his self-hatred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to make sure everything fits together in MCU is like juggling chainsaws, I swear...
> 
> Thank you to Annaelle for her stupendous beta skills and knowledge of the MCU. She basically wrote like 1,000 words total in this chapter because she's awesome. I'm getting the hang of things, though!
> 
> Thank YOU, readers, for every favorite, follow, kudos, and bookmark. But it's those reviews and comments that seriously keep me going. Feed the writer and her minions! :D
> 
> xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

Toni had barely slept at all.

She could, honestly, barely remember the last time she really  _had_ slept. Even before she had ended up in the past, she'd been up for over seventy hours, and the night she had arrived, the most she'd managed was a few hours of light, dream-filled, restless sleep.

It hadn't really helped, and much as Toni hated to admit it, even her body had its limits.

The previous night, after they'd sought out a safe spot and Steve and Bucky had isolated themselves a little as Barnes fussed over Steve, Toni had still been too hopped up on adrenaline to be able to settle down her mind for long enough to catch some z's.

The fight at the Hydra base had replayed in her mind over and over again, and the uneasy feeling it caused, tugging at something uncomfortably, deep within her gut, had made her feel a little too queasy for comfort. She ignored it, however, as she was quite adept at doing, and instead focused on the Howlies and how they joked around with Steve and Bucky even though the two men were clearly still not fully recovered from their scare at the base.

It made her wonder.

When they'd settled down to rest, Toni had, purposefully, forced her body into a sleep-like stillness, well-aware that Bucky's eyes were still on her—whenever he managed to look away from his Captain anyway—and she did not feel up to dealing with the whirlwind that was a worried Bucky Barnes turning his attention towards her.

Toni was woman enough to acknowledge she had a bit of an issue—and fuck if that wasn't the understatement of the century—with having people  _worry_  about her.

So, in the morning, she pretended she hadn't spent most of the night staring at the dying embers of the little campfire the boys had built and bantered playfully with Falsworth and Dernier as they packed up their gear, and greedily made grabby hands at Jones for the tin cup of substance—shooting a smile of gratitude as she went—that smelled like the closest thing to actual coffee that she was going to get.

She blatantly ignored the horrifying, bitter taste and sighed happily after her first swallow of life-affirming caffeine and pretended not to notice or need the breakfast that Bucky was distributing among the men. She also ignored the  _look_ he gave her when he noticed what she was doing—it was an all too familiar look, and she'd been on the receiving end quite a few times before.

He'd have to step up his game if he was going to make her do things she didn't want to.

He'd probably get along marvelously with Pepper, she mused distractedly. No one had ever been as successful at using increasingly creative methods to get her to do things as Pepper.

God.

 _Pepper_.

Something deep inside her chest tugged painfully, and Toni wondered if Pepper was okay. If she'd settled in nicely and comfortably with her soulmate, even though Toni had not yet met them or vetted them to make sure they were worthy of  _her_  Pepper.

But then…

It hadn't really happened yet, had it?

Because she was in nineteen-forty-fucking-four.

For fuck's sake, that was getting old.

She refused to allow herself to dwell on the whole time paradox thing—it was a headache in the making and she did  _not_  have enough alcohol available to deal with  _that_.

Instead, she hopped right back on Cap's motorcycle, with Bucky's enthusiastic blessing, and laughed at the petulant, disgruntled look on Steve's face as he was relegated to sitting behind Bucky on Bucky's motorcycle. Of course, she also didn't miss the way he melted against Bucky when he wrapped his arms tightly around his soulmate's waist— _her soulmate's waist_ …

 _That_ had made more than just her head hurt, and she'd decidedly thought of nothing but possible applications for the weapons she'd seen in Hydra's trucks—and in their hands—as they travelled through muddy, overgrown backroads until they passed a barricade of soldiers that eyed them warily but let them pass regardless.

They'd reached a city then and…

It hit her then.

It finally, truly, really,  _fucking_ , hit her then.

They were in the middle of a  _world_   _war_.

Dugan gestured sharply towards the right when they'd entered the city, and she followed, eyes wide as she took in the damage to the buildings, to the streets—to  _everything_. Dugan parked his motorcycle in what looked like an abandoned warehouse, and Toni followed his lead mechanically, still feeling oddly shell-shocked by the sight of the city. Dugan must have caught her wide-eyed gaze, because he smiled wryly and patted her shoulder gently. "Sights like this one remind us why we fight, don't they?"

She nodded mutely, turning away from the men as they grabbed their gear from the saddlebags, and eyed the city before her. It was nothing like the small towns she'd seen in Afghanistan, nothing like the horrors the media liked to talk about at home—

She couldn't  _describe_ it.

The people…

They didn't look like people anymore. Many of them looked thin and gaunt, eyes hollow and haunted and  _frightened_. They looked almost like human versions of the shells of buildings that were left, riddled with bullet holes and scorch marks that told tales of battle and blood so horrifying Toni couldn't quite wrap her mind around it.

"What is this place?"

The words fell from her lips before she'd had time to consider them, really, and it wasn't until Steve spoke up, suddenly appearing by her side, that she realized she'd spoken out loud. "What's left of Rimini, Italy," he said slowly, eyes travelling over the sight before him as a frown creased his forehead. "Allies managed to chase Germans out a couple of months ago, but…"

"Was it worth it?"

Steve fell silent, and Toni could sense he didn't know the answer to that question either.

"We gotta believe that it is," Bucky interrupted, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder as he sidled up next to Steve. "What the hell are we fighting for if it ain't?"

She didn't have a smart answer for that.

For once in her life, she had nothing to say, nothing mocking to remark.

"Let's go," Dugan boomed, shattering the tension that had descended upon them, and Toni felt herself relax just a little as she followed the other men through the streets, unable to keep her eyes from taking in the true devastation of the city—she could plainly see where there had been an effort made to clean up the rubble, but there was  _so much_  left, it was like a losing battle…

There were houses with crumbling walls, blackened by flames and torn down by ammunition shells, streets with craters deep enough for even Steve to be able to stand in and still be hidden, stains on cobblestones that hadn't been washed away by rain that looked disturbingly like dried blood, and Toni felt a little sick at the realization that  _this_ …

 _This_ was what her family's weapons were capable of.

Sure, she had shut down the weapons division of Stark Industries, but not before it had unleashed devastation even a fraction as bad as this—and even that had been too much.

Any of it was too much.

The weapons that had done this, here, weren't Stark tech, but they were the kind of weapons Toni had spent  _decades_  on improving and selling—

How had they not learned?

How the  _hell_  had the world not learned from a World War?

She remained silent the whole way to the airfield they were apparently heading towards.

She didn't really have anything to say anymore.

She felt sick.

* * *

She thought she might have slept a little, on the flight, but she wasn't sure.

The plane was  _loud_  though, and every time she felt she might be able to drop off into a light nap, the image of Rimini pushed itself back to the forefront of her mind, and she wasn't even sure if it was her own mind or one of her soulmates' that seemed intent on torturing her.

The snoring that echoed through the hold told her that none of the others seemed as bothered by the sights they'd been exposed to as she was—but she didn't need to turn to know that Bucky was as wide awake as she was, and that Steve was sleeping, fitfully and plagued by nightmares, caught within the sandman's sticky clutches.

No, she didn't need to look to know that Bucky would be holding him, rocking him gently, whispering soothing words of comfort that were indecipherable in the cacophony of the engines surrounding them.

She didn't need to look to feel the aching desire to be allowed to  _join_ them.

She  _ached_  to feel the comfort of her soulmates—even from Steve.

It had been so easy to see Steve Rogers as his Captain America persona before  _feeling_ the nightmares, even muted as they were to her.

It'd been so easy to just resent him for being  _everything_  her father blamed her for  _not_  being, to resent him for having Bucky, for keeping both himself and Bucky at arm's length from her, without truly talking to her, sitting down with her and discussing what all  _this_  was—

But now…

Now,  _fuck her_ , fuck  _him_ , he was human.

He was human, down to the basest degree, because who the fuck wouldn't be when they could feel that much fear, that much worry, that much love, that much despair?

So she did what she did best: avoid, avoid,  _avoid_.

Time passed, she was sure, but it hardly felt like it did, as she desperately held onto consciousness, trying not to fall into her own nightmares, until a heavy hand suddenly fell upon her shoulder, shaking her gently.

"Toni, we're here."

She practically jumped clean out of her seat, but she was able to pull herself together enough to offer a smile to Morita. It wasn't one of her classic Stark charm smiles, but it was the best she could pull off for the moment without another five cups of coffee in her system and three days in her workshop.

Oh, her  _workshop_. How she missed her workshop…

"Thanks, Jim," she said as she stood up, shoving her dark thoughts into the deep recesses of her mind for the time being so that she could at least  _somewhat_  operate at a normal level, and then groaned as she stretched, popping joint after joint that had stiffened from the long ride.

Speaking of, she  _really_  needed to relieve her bladder.

And some privacy to check on the arc reactor wouldn't be amiss, either. She had one of her multi-tools that had come along for the ride in her sweatpants' pocket, but she'd be  _so_  fucked if something happened to the reactor, honestly. Like, the dead type of fucked. She may as well prevent what damage she could with a little preventative maintenance, and hope that that would be enough.

"Where we at, anyway?" Toni yawned, glancing around the empty cargo hold of the aircraft. She snatched her hand away before it could tap against her arc reactor out of habit. No need to call more attention to it, even though they already knew it was there. She buttoned the top buttons of the jacket—no knowing who they were about to meet.

"London," Jim replied, pulling off his cap and rubbing his hair before replacing the cap more firmly. He eyed her a little oddly for a moment, and then gestured towards the exit door and ladder after she made no indication she was going to move.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry, don't know where my head's been," Toni replied with false cheer, as though they hadn't all seen her basically lose her shit in Rimini. "So, London, huh? Don't know how I missed that! Well, actually, I do. Sorta been lost in my mind for a bit, y'know? Well, maybe since we flew over France. Or, uh, since we got on the plane? Actually, I don't even really remember sitting down? Did someone strap me in? Now that I mention it, I…" Toni prattled on, mouth and mind warming up as she made her way down the ladder, letting her thoughts run ahead of her as she made small talk with herself and anyone who would listen, in this case, the Howlies.

They unloaded the gear from the plane wordlessly, Toni chipping in and chattering nonsensically right alongside the others as they watched two vehicles approach from the distance, and it took Toni a moment to realize that Steve and Bucky had separated themselves from the group again.

Toni stopped for a moment, a little annoyed, and took the time to observe what they were doing. It took her a moment to realise that they were quite literally changing before her eyes—adopting the public persona, the  _shield_  the rest of the world got to see. The transition was so smooth that Toni realized they'd become quite adept at hiding who they truly were.

Much like the public persona she herself used back in the twenty-first century, the one she used so that no one would know who she truly was so that they couldn't use that knowledge to hurt her.

And that—

Ah, shit.

That's what they were doing.

Toni's face and heart softened even further as she realized that they may have shut their features and selves off from the world, adopting different ways of touching, of acting, of interacting with each other… but that they hadn't shut themselves off from her, knowingly or unknowingly.

The little she was feeling from them was enough to tell that they already wished they could touch each other, comfort one another even further in the wake of the nightmares on the flight here, to finally get to a private room where they could undress slowly and check each other over for injuries that might not have healed yet, that they might have overlooked, and wash each other thoroughly, hold each other tight through the night and sleep in as late as they possibly could…

A part of Toni wished she could, as well. With them.

Fuck if she didn't.

She was damn good at lying to others, and others were pretty convinced she was quite excellent at lying to herself, but for things like this, things like this wanting…

Yeah, she'd admit it.

She wanted it.

She wanted to be held, she wanted to be loved, to be wanted, to be cared for, and to be comforted in the wake of her nightmares. She wanted to be caressed and to be told it was okay when the pain of her arc reactor overwhelmed her, when the fear crept deep into her bones and she was filled with paranoia and had to make sure that every last one of her weapons or tech was out of enemy hands.

She wanted. She  _wanted_. And fuck if that didn't hurt. Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_!

And she couldn't have it— _them_.

She could look, but she couldn't have, and wasn't that the story of her life?

But it was okay. She would be okay. She always was.

And… honestly? She couldn't begrudge them their happiness. They had fought for every last scrap of their love in a bigoted and hate-filled early America, early Europe, early  _world_ , and they deserved to have each other without her messing everything up for them.

It wasn't their fault that fate had brought her in years too late.

 _Years_  too late. And wasn't that just the greatest, cruelest, fucking joke.

What the fuck was the point of all this, universe?

Toni didn't believe in fate, never had, but it felt like it had something planned for her, and she'd be damned if she'd be its puppet.

She made her own damn decisions.

Toni was aware enough of the outside world, of the boys weaving around her stationary body, to pull herself back into awareness as the vehicles pulled to a roaring stop in front of them, engines cutting off suddenly, one after the other, and plunging the dusky darkness of the airfield into an eerie silence—Toni idly wondered why there weren't more aircrafts at this field, but filed the thought away for later.

Steve and Bucky stood at attention as a grizzly older man stepped out of the passenger side of one of the open Jeeps. They saluted him, and he nodded at them, allowing them to stand at ease as he addressed them, far enough away so that they could not be overheard.

The Howlies themselves didn't really stand on ceremony, it seemed, even the Americans among them, though the—Toni peered closer through the gathering gloom and fighting against the glare of the Jeeps' headlights— _colonel_  was not addressing them. They were talking softly amongst themselves, Toni standing just to the side of them, though she wasn't talking, only staring and  _thinking_ , as their captain and sergeant spoke with the colonel.

"Quite the group, huh?"

Toni started, though she caught herself before she could do much more than wince, and she slowly turned her head to greet the person who had appeared at her shoulder. She started to answer before she had fully turned, "The Howlies? Yeah, they're a  _riot_ , honestly, couldn't ask for oh holy fu—" and so was only halfway through her response when she finally caught sight of who it was that had appeared at her elbow.

Howard.

Howard  _fucking_  Stark.

Howard  _motherfucking_  Stark.

No. Wait. That was a bad way to put it.

Howard  _holy fucking mother of god_  Stark.

Her fucking  _father_  was at her side, and she wasn't prepared.

She didn't know what to do.

She'd known this was a possibility, but only in the 'yeah maybe it's possible but what a fucking hoot, that would be funny  _not_ ' way. Only in the 'yeah sure maybe I'll encounter him but I'll cross that bridge when I get there and only if I can't build my own bridge or swim across the river to avoid him in any and all possible ways' way.

Toni had thought she'd see Howard fucking Stark coming from a fucking mile away. That he would have neon flashing lights and halogen bulbs and sparks and glamor and dancing monkeys and chorus girls and canons announcing his presence. Never in a fucking million years had she imagined he would sneak up on her like a fucking… fucking… like…

"Miss? Are you alright?" he asked, all sincere charm and concerned smile, and just the right amount of care in his voice and  _oh my god_ …

"I…" she stuttered.

Shit. Shit shit  _shit_.

Her brain wasn't working. Her brain wasn't fucking working. She needed to reboot. No, no, she needed to purge the virus and  _then_  reboot, but that didn't look like it'd be happening anytime soon. She'd barely had time to  _process_  everything she'd seen in Italy, everything she'd  _done_ , and she hadn't…

God, she wasn't  _ready_  to face this man again.

She thought she'd left him in the dirt two decades ago, and now, now…

Ugh.

_Fuck._

She watched detachedly as the Howlies started to slowly turn towards them, one by one, as if they could sense something was wrong with the castaway they'd picked up and seemingly adopted.

Maybe… maybe one of them would save her.

Maybe if she could just say something, without calling attention—

"Can I get you something? Water? When's the last time you ate?" he asked, and the genuine  _concern_  in his voice outright  _baffled_  her, because she couldn't recall the last time her father had spoken to her with kindness. "Have these boys not been taking good care of you? Hell, where'd they even find a beauty like you out in the wilderness?"

His voice just washed over her as she stared up at him, short for a man, but still taller than her—and the way he stood was such an enormous contrast to how he'd always made her feel so  _small_ —her eyes wide and taking in every detail, every movement, watching for the moment when he would make the slightest motion towards her. It was as if time had slowed down, and she could compare every minute part of his expressions and mannerisms, though as if through a lens, to the way he was in the future, to her  _past_.

He was so similar, and yet so  _different_ , as if something had happened to him between now and when she knew him. Something of immense weight, something that had perhaps caused irreparable damage to his very soul…

But he was still the same.

He was still Howard.

He was her  _father_.

"I…"

Toni looked to the side, and caught Steve and Bucky looking her way with twin expressions of creased worry on their brow—and that,  _that_ was where Toni drew the line.

She was a warrior. She had stood up to her demons before, many times. She could do it again.

Even to the original demon.

Toni shook her head slightly, as if dispelling a fog from her mind, and then turned a smile on Howard, though she never quite met his eyes—instead looking at the space right between his eyes in a little trick she'd learned for the moments when she didn't have her sunglasses. And oh how she wished for them right then. "I'm alright, my apologies, sir…?" she announced breezily.

"Mr. Stark," he replied immediately, lips turning up into a smile that  _oozed_  that famous Stark charm. Ah, there it was. "But you can call me Howard, if you like, beautiful." He winked.

Toni suppressed a grimace.

No different than when old lechers hit on you, Toni, keep it up, girl.

"Mr. Stark," she settled on, trying not to smile wider or more sharply as she deliberately chose the one name over the other. She chose her next words even more carefully. "My apologies, again. I'm just a little tired and I was stuck on figuring out some formula in my head when you interrupted me so precipitously. Sometimes I get a little stuck and can't respond properly for a few moments, much to my embarrassment."

Toni let a little laugh out, at her own expense, and breathed an internal sigh of relief when Howard took it hook, line, and sinker.

"Oh!" he replied, understanding dawning on his features, as well as academic interest. "I have those moments, myself, I must admit," he laughs charmingly. "And formula, you say? What is your field? Are you a visiting scientist from Italy? Your accent is American, though—what were you doing out there?—no, wait, it's of no matter—if the colonel says you're golden then you should come visit the workshop tomorrow when you get some rest. I would invite you now, but I believe that the boys here would have me for breakfast if I were to do so, by the looks of it…"

He trailed off with a raised eyebrow, not quelled in the least by the looks the Howlies were shooting him, some of the amusement mixed with varying degrees of seriousness, and Toni couldn't help but to feel warmth welling up within her at the thought of the men looking out for her, even though they'd only spent just less than two days together.

"Men," a voice cut into the charged silence, and the Howling Commandos turned to give the colonel sloppy salutes. Howard simply crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. The colonel snorted and said, "I told you boys to work on your salutes, didn't I?"

They'd all resumed their swaying, relaxed stances again, and were shooting grins back and forth between themselves and the colonel. "Well, Colonel Phillips, sir," Dugan began, "we were gonna work on our salutes, like you said, had ourselves all lined up in a row, all proper like, see, but there was this giant green and blue—"

"Oh save it, sarge," Phillips cut in, voice holding enough of a hint of relaxed laughter that Toni was intrigued. She still made sure to keep a damn  _eye_  on the fucking problem at her elbow, though.

Her fucking  _father_.

Christ on a cracker.

As long as he didn't try to hit on her much more… Toni barely repressed a shudder, and tuned herself back into the conversation in time to catch the reply.

"You always have the best excuses," Philips grumbled. "It's become a running joke around here at this point."

"Aim to please, sir," Dugan smirked, and he pulled a cigar out, offering one to the colonel before lighting his own. And then the colonel's eyes were on Toni, and they were some of the sharpest damn eyes she'd seen on a military man, even Rhodey.

Holy  _shit_.

"Who might you be?" the silver-haired man asked, peering at her through the gloom. She was partially lit by the headlights, but he… he was backlit by them and she could only barely see enough to catch the expressions on his face. She was aware of Steve and Bucky approaching quietly from behind the colonel, bracketing the man and watching, almost like they were  _waiting_ , though for what, Toni wasn't quite sure.

It was like she was staring at a minefield suddenly, and knowing she had to cross it—but not knowing how.

Well, the only damn way was to go forward, and then to fucking wing it.

"Antonia, sir," Toni began simply, testing the waters, keeping her expression neutral enough, but not empty… not like she was trying to  _hide_.

He paused for a moment. "Do you have a last name, Antonia?"

Well, she'd known that one was coming. "Rhodes, sir. Antonia Rhodes. I'm from New York," she offered, knowing it was better to offer information than to have it pulled from you, "and somewhat of an amateur scientist, and I—"

 _Shit_. She didn't have a good reason for being in Italy. Not one she could tell the  _military_. They would wonder if she was working for Hydra, just like Steve had, aw fuck, and it wasn't like they'd believe time travel—or would they…?

"Sir," Steve suddenly interrupted, and Toni had to fight not to let out a little breath of relief as Philips' eyes darted to the side—but he didn't turn around to face the captain, only tilted his head in order to indicate that the man should continue. "If you'll allow Sergeant Barnes and I to debrief with you and Agent Carter," Toni's eyes widened just slightly, but she refused to allow herself anything more, as Philips still had the light of the headlights to view her with, and his eyes still trained on her features, "we'll be able to fill you in with what you need to know, sir, including where we found Ms. Antonia and what she has done to assist us. Because she has, sir. Assisted us."

"Yessir," Bucky murmured on Philips' other side, and then caught Toni's eye. He sent her a muted sense of reassurance and a request for trust through their underdeveloped bond, and Steve was doing one better by stepping forward and reaching out to grip her hand in his and bring it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

Wait— _what_?

Why would he do  _that_?

And lit amongst her confusion the bond seemed to spark a fiery connection from her mind straight into her belly at the contact of skin to skin and she felt her eyes widen against her will before she could control herself. At least she barely— _barely_ —managed to keep from yanking her hand away from him. She was sure it wouldn't have fit into the game Steve was playing… whatever that may be.

Philips' eyes didn't miss a thing.

He squeezed her fingers reassuringly before letting her hand go.

She met his eyes, and he smiled warmly at her, the smile reaching all the way up. He wasn't— _only_ —doing this for show, and  _that_  was frightening because it was dangerous. It was dangerous because it created  _hope_. "Toni," he said deliberately—and seriously, what the fuck was he playing at? She couldn't sense anything from him at all, "—we'll see you in the morning? The men will be able to help you to a room in the SSR's barracks when you get there, and then we can figure out some logistics and outfitting. Okay?"

Toni could only nod, still wondering what the fuck was going on. She looked at Bucky and caught him smirking, and she barely resisted the intense desire to narrow her eyes at the man.

Well  _fine then_.

"Okay," Toni agreed, nodding her head once, succinctly, with more confidence than she felt—and wasn't that the story of her life, sometimes? "Come along, boys! You can treat me to some drinks before we hit the hay, whadya say?" She powered right past Philips, right past Barnes and Rogers' hooded gazes, and left Howard in the dust without a backward glance—holy  _shit_.

Times like this, she wished she were dreaming.

Fucking fuck sticks, seriously.

Falsworth jumped for the driver's seat, unsurprisingly so, and Toni didn't make a single comment about the men leaving her the passenger side, though she couldn't resist making a comment about the Brits and their choice of side of the road as the rest of the men piled into the back.

It was only as they were pulling away into the almost full dark that Toni heard a voice calling out towards them from the other Jeep. Someone with an eerily familiar, crisp British accent, who had been sitting and waiting in silence. "Hey Dum Dum! Target practice at dawn! You owe me!"

"You got it, Peggy!" the man called out, a big grin spreading across his face as Toni swiveled in her seat in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the woman who had made a larger than life impact on one young girl, young woman's life.

All thoughts of Howard left her mind—at least for the moment.

For now… she had another chance at spending time with the woman who meant the most to her. She no longer had to wonder if today would be a day where Peggy would remember her, or if it would be one of those half-there days, or a day where she was as unknown as the orderly, or as her new grandson.

She had… time.

* * *

One ale, not watered down, unrationed, strong and full-bodied.

"Some people think my rendezvous is bad luck," Dernier announced in perfect, though accented, English. The story was for Toni's benefit, of course, as the rest of the men at the table had heard the story many times already, she was sure. But she didn't mind. She liked them opening up to her, getting to know them, in a way that the history books and museums obviously never got to, and in a way that she had a suspicion her father hadn't gotten to, for all his talk.

"But I think," Dernier continued, "that it is good luck. Une bonne chance! That I will survive this war and meet my demoiselle in the wonderful year of 1948 and live on a beautiful farm like my maman et papa before me." He smiled, and took a big gulp of his ale, long used to the strong British drink by now, it seemed.

"With plenty of place to experiment with explosives, I hope!" Toni added in, a gleam in her eye.

"A large field with a giant tank in the middle would be perfect!" Falsworth grinned.

"Oh, bien sûr!" Dernier practically cackled in agreement, and then the three of them laughed together when the rest of the group eyed each other nervously, not sure quite what to do with  _three_  of them.

…

A second ale, slightly different than the first, brewed with less hops, but no less full for that.

Toni savored the taste as she listened to Falsworth express how good it would be to have this next week off so that he would be able to see his ladies—his soulmate and three young daughters—in between his wife's shifts at the hospital. He'd be off to see them in the morning, and the gleam in his eye was enough to bring happiness to Toni's heart, purely for his sake.

There was so little good in this war; let him find it where he could.

The happiness was all the more deserved when Gabe Jones whispered quietly to her that Falsworth had lost his eldest son in the first year of the war, and it was his death that had led him to enlisting, though he was old enough to avoid the draft.

Toni understood revenge, and she understood the happiness that came from it, too.

She issued a silent prayer for James Falsworth, that he would never lose himself to his revenge.

…

The third drink was a large glass of red wine, a Malbec, at Dernier's insistence, from a bottle of wine pulled from behind a brick, much to the disgruntlement of the barkeep. It was French, and  _very_  good, and Toni made note of the year and vineyard for the  _minute_  chance that she could get a bottle of it again in the future.

Near the bottom of the glass, Toni was finally able to admit to herself that she was unhappy and hiding herself in alcohol, but that didn't mean she had to stop.

Nope. No sirree.

In some cases it meant she had to  _continue_.

Because feelings sucked.

Because she'd seen Steve and Bucky slip into the pub for a short moment to share a few rushed words with Dugan, who'd been getting them a fresh round of drinks at the bar, before they'd slipped right back out again, not even glancing back towards where she sat, and she didn't want to admit it  _hurt_.

It  _hurt_ , even when—perhaps  _especially_  when, but damn it if she would admit it—Dugan and the boys quietly joked about their captain and their sergeant not being able to keep their hands to themselves when there was an empty room with a lock waiting for them.

So yeah… Feelings  _sucked_.

"So… Jim," she addressed Morita. He was sitting beside her quietly, sipping from a flask as the other men were engaged in an arm wrestling match with a group of visiting Americans at the next table over.

"Yeah?" he asked, just as quiet as he'd been the rest of the night—and, would ya look at that, the early morning, too.

"Ever have a soulmark?" she asked.

It was… honestly, it was a rather rude question. One she had asked before, she'd own up to that, but to people she'd liked far less than she liked Jim Morita so far. And she  _wanted_  him to like her, but… well, uh, it was the first thing that had come to her mind, honestly.

"I'm sorry, that was really rude," she backtracked quickly, but quietly, shuttering her gaze and downing the rest of her wine.

"It's… alright," he replied.

"It is?" The words slipped out before she could stop them, but she refused to make the surprised expression that went along with them, as they would have embarrassed her even  _further_.

"Yeah." He smiled softly, sadly, looking at the table and then sideways, at her, before shifting so that he could look at her fully. She turned her neck so that she could look at him as well, the soft warmth of the alcohol allowing her to meet his open and expressive gaze. "I had a soulmate. He and I joined the 107th together. We were lucky to not be split up, honestly, even though life was hard in an American regiment where being… us, was illegal."

Tears started to gather in his eyes, though not enough to spill over, and Toni found it impossible to look away. She was caught, and part of her was cursing him for weaving some sort of spell over her to stop her from disengaging. "He was hurt in an earlier engagement, and died in the field hospital. I was only allowed in because I was his soulmate. His  _platonic_  soulmate." And here, a flash of anger, a small one, crept into his eyes and into his voice, and Toni felt it echoed in her—it was so  _unfair_.

"But," Morita continued, dialing the anger back into a strained smile, "he asked me to continue for him. To be strong for him. To smile and move on, and kick Nazi ass and show those bigots that being queer and being a Jap isn't what defines who I am, who we were—but it  _is_  a part of us, of me. Of  _him_. So I go through with a smile on my face, and I honor his memory."

Toni held up her empty glass. "Here, here," she whispered.

…

Her fourth glass was more like three shots of strong Canadian whisky and damn if that shit wasn't  _fine_. Smooth as all get out. She ignored the side-eyes that she was getting, because damn it, she was still standing straight. Sitting straight.

Whatever.

After Morita's talk about bigotry she'd remembered Howard and then remembered why she never half-assed drinking. She either didn't, or she got shit-faced, otherwise her mind went places she  _really_  didn't want to go.

And all she could focus on was how Howard had reacted when she had brought home her first girlfriend at fifteen. Yeah, that had been a hoot.

 _Not_.

And here he was. Fighting the good fight, building tech to fight the Nazis and their buddies, and becoming a war hero and all that jazz, and building such a reputation for being part of liberating minorities that  _no one_  would believe he was a fucking bigot and neglectful parent, no one would believe he was a homophobe towards even his own daughter, and the stories he told didn't equate with someone who couldn't hold his liquor in his old age and now he was here but he seemed different and what the fuck did she do with  _that_ —

"I recognize that look," a voice intruded on her thoughts.

Toni looked up as Gabe Jones traded places with a concerned looking Morita, and slid another shot glass of whisky towards her—four now, total.

Awesome.

"That," he continued without prompting, "looks like a 'my father's an asshole' problem." He tossed his drink back and then poured himself another before she even touched her fingers to her glass. Her surprise had made her slow.

"How did you know?" she asked, one hand brushing her curls off her sweaty forehead and behind her ear as the other grabbed the shot glass and brought it to her lips. The burn pushed the bad thoughts away just that little bit more, she was relieved to note, but she didn't reach for the bottle to pour herself another.

"Lucky guess, actually," Gabe replied with a shrug. "You looked like how I feel when I'm thinking about my dear old pa, and so I figured I'd lead with that. The others were looking a mite concerned, too, so I figured I'd give it a go. They've been trying to get you moving for the last twenty minutes but you've just been asking for more shots," he accused gently, tipping his own shot glass at her as if in demonstration.

"Sorry," she grumbled, staring at the grain of the table in front of her. She didn't say another word, her mind emptying, finally, in that way she was only able to obtain for moments at a time, here and there—

"My soulmate's a white girl, lives down the street a few blocks from us, but it may as well be like we're on different planets, yeah?" Gabe said, wholly unprompted and a little startlingly for its frankness. Toni's head shot right up and around, staring at him, her head swimming a little as it caught up. "And, yeah, I expected trouble from her da, but my pa… I thought he'd be on my side, our side, y'know? But he wasn't. He ain't. And it caused this rift between us, and between her and her pa. I moved out before the war, but she hadn't, and in some ways it's a good thing, yeah? Because she has a place to live, someone to support her, especially if something happens to me… but…"

Toni reached over and grabbed one of Gabe's hands, gripping it tight with hers. She looked over and caught his eyes, and said as clearly as she could, trying to impart to him her knowledge of the future, so that he could  _know_. "It'll be  _okay_ ," she began slowly, carefully. "Things will be tough, but it will turn out okay, Gabe, y'hear? There will still be fights that need fighting, and I can't say it won't be hard. But it's worth it, and if— _when_  you get back to your girl, you hold her tight and love her and don't let go and show the way for everyone else, okay?"

Gabe could only nod rapidly, bringing his other hand up to his mouth.

Toni held his hand until he pulled away.

…

She didn't have a fifth glass of anything.

Instead, Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan cheated her out of the glass  _and_  out of the last of the personal tales that she had inadvertently been racking up, by waiting until she was at her weakest—holy  _shit_  this stuff was stronger than it used to be, was gonna be, was… fucking hell.

Point being, the master strategist had lain in wait until she was half asleep, mostly drunk, and emotionally vulnerable—a hard fucking feat, hope you're  _proud_ , Dugan—and then sent the dogs in to mop up the pieces and call the battle a fait accomplit.

Asshole.

"I heard that," Dugan said, way too happily for someone who was going to be getting his ass handed to him by Peggy in two hours.

"Heard that, too," he said, a grin pulling at his lips.

"Fucker," she muttered. "And yeah, I know you herr'tha'too! I wanna y' ta!"

"Stellar use of the English language there, beautiful," an entirely new voice said, and Toni practically tripped over herself as she pushed herself away from Dugan.

"No! Traitor!" she grouched, but couldn't quite find herself to be more than just a little annoyed.

More like resigned indignation.

A state of being she was remarkably familiar with.

"Keep it down, doll," Bucky murmured. "This way." And he didn't even touch her, just gestured at the open door, and Toni knew that she was shit out of luck, shit out of options, too drunk to figure this shit out, and everyone had fucking ganged up on her.

"Fuck you all," she grumbled as Bucky guided her towards the room he and Steve obviously occupied. "I ge' the bed at least. You can sleep on the floor like… like g' soldiers." Steve barely made it off the bed before she crawled onto it, his expression almost comical as he dodged her outstretched arms.

Too bad. It would've been fun to push him off.

Her eyes flickered over him briefly, and somewhere in the back of her foggy, alcohol-diluted mind, she wanted to appreciate the sight before her, because  _sweet baby Jesus_ , that man looked  _fine_  shirtless, but she was already halfway towards sleep—the only way she was gonna get it right now was with alcohol, so score one for her and whoever had paid—as she listened to the voices die down, the door close, and then closer voices were speaking, though just as mutedly.

It was a fuzzy, pleasant haze, and it was underscored by a calming, soothing sensation wrapping itself around her mind, gentling her thoughts, her feelings, her worries and fears and anger and sadness.

She felt her boots being unlaced and tugged off, her socks pulled right off with them and her feet tucked under the blankets along with the rest of her, right up to under her chin. Two sets of hands brushed the hair from her face, but no more—and  _oh how she wished for more from them_ —and Toni found a frown tugging at her features for a moment before a single hand brushed across her lips, wiping away the frown, and her mind was wrapped in warmth and comfort once more, pulling her swiftly into sleep, even as the hand drew away.

But there was a tear in the mental blanket now, and Toni's mind couldn't help but want that hand back, all  _four_  hands.

She'd had a taste, and like a dying woman, thirsting for water, she wanted  _more_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those looking for more of Toni in her element, that will be coming up in short order! Had to throw everyone together and shake them up first. :P They're still all settling down. Lotsa shit to figure out, eh? So many loose threads.
> 
> Thank you times a million again to my beta Annaelle for being invaluable. She smacked me over the head and rewrote the first bit because she has a history degree as well that's actually much more well-versed in Europe and she was all "omg Juuls you need to do more with this" so... yeah. I will make sure to do better in the future, mistress. *gulp*
> 
> Thank you, readers, for being amazing! For every kudos, comment, bookmark, fav, follow, review! Also, wow! Rayshippouuchiha sent people my way (thank you, lady!!)? Like, now I'm going to go hide in a hole, thanks. :P Only way to go is forward though... gotta soldier on! If I miss things, I'll figure it out. But I'm trying not to! Having a blast though, and it's because everyone is being wonderful so far. Thank you so much, everyone, and for your kind thoughts and words about my RA/whatever-it-is and my ex-husband. It means the world to me. I'm a little slow in replying to reviews sometimes as I get really burnt out, but I try to catch up. Thank you again, everyone. xoxo
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr if you want, at juuls! It's a bit of an eclectic mess, but stick around if you like it. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

She didn't have to open her eyes to know where she was.

She knew where she was by the way the cold, damp air and stale atmosphere clung to the back of her throat. She knew where she was by the way the air pressed upon her lungs. The way each breath seemed to both burn and choke her.

It was burned into her mind, into her soul, into her existence… it was burned into her very  _molecules_.

The cave.

It always seemed to come back to the damned cave.

It didn't matter that she had torn herself from its cold, uncaring grasp over a year ago, leaving only rubble and flames in her wake. It didn't matter that she was  _stronger_  and that she had worked hard— _so fucking hard_ —to get away from everything that had happened in that cave.

In the end, it always seemed to come back to what happened in the cave.

And she was  _weak_  in that cave.

It was the only place she ever  _let_  herself be weak. The cave was the only thing in the world, the only place left that was witness to the weakness of those long months. She couldn't escape it, and she found that she just… she just couldn't  _fight_  it all the time anymore.

She was  _so_ tired.

So she didn't fight.

It was, after all, only a dream. One that made her ache, and that never ceased to cause her heart to pound so hard that she swore she could feel it through the damned arc reactor.

It was always so quiet in the cave, quiet in a way that nothing else in her life was. Toni's life was all  _screaming_  color and noise, confusion and organized chaos—well, and sometimes not so organized—in a way that allowed her all the time she needed to think while also taking away the chance to think too _much_.

Quiet unnerved her.

Quiet wasn't calm, wasn't peace. Quiet let the thoughts loose that she normally held firmly back, pressed into the back of her mind with the white noise that she'd made her life.

And here she was, again in the silent cave.

She shook her head and pressed back into the hard cot, wishing she would  _feel_  more, despite knowing she was trapped in a dream, that there would be nothing she could do until she woke up, gasping for breath. It was sad, she supposed, that her worst nightmare was one where she lay prone upon an uncomfortable surface, unable to move a damn muscle.

There were things so much  _worse_. She knew that, at least theoretically.

And yet…

Here she was.

" _Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 107_ _th_ _Infantry Division. 32557038…"_

The whisper was so faint that for a moment she was convinced she hadn't heard anything at all. She never heard anything in the cave, after all, and it wouldn't be the first time her imagination ran wild on her, trying to snap her out of this fucking hell hole. But somewhere, even deeper in the cave, she could hear the steady drip of water splashing onto stone, and though the sound was soothing, in a way, and better than the  _quiet_ ,it was also maddening in its steadiness and its overwhelming totality.

She couldn't hear  _anything_  but the water dripping onto stone.

Nothing but…

" _Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 107_ _th_ _Infantry Division. 32557038…"_

Her heart clenched, and the words hit her like a freight train. She suddenly understood the meaning behind the words she was hearing— _Bucky_. Bucky was… here? Was he in the cave with her? That didn't… why would he be in the middle of her nightmare?

A moment of panic almost completely overwhelmed her when the thought ran through her mind, quick as a shot, and almost as destructive, that maybe she wasn't dreaming—maybe this was reality, and they, she and Bucky, were somehow in Afghanistan together, in the  _fucking cave_ , and she had to get them out, holy fuck—

But fuck, no, this was a dream. This was  _the_  dream,  _her_  nightmare, and she had to fucking get a fucking grip on herself, and figure out what the absolute flying fuck was going on in  _her_  fucking dream, because so help her God, she may hate the ever-loving hell out of this fucking piece of shit cave, but if something or someone was messing with it, with her brain, there would be hell to fucking pay.

Okay.

Okay, so maybe she'd gone a little overboard. But, back to the important things, and this— _this_ was important.

"B—Bucky?"

Her voice was raw and it ached to speak but it felt like a  _victory_ , because she had never been able to speak during her nightmares before.

" _Serg—Sergeant James B—Buchanan Barnes. 107_ _th_ _Infantr—Infantry D—Division. 325—57038…"_

The whispering continued, stuttering and quiet, without pause now, and she could hear Bucky breathe, shaky and rough, hacking with horrifying coughs every few breaths, a wheezing rattle filling in the rest. The pain he had to be in burned in her own lungs, and her heart was pounding painfully in a way it had never done before and  _fear_  burned in her veins—

But then she realized she couldn't move—she was never going to get there—she was going to be too late—she was going to lose him—she wasn't going to be able to save him—he was going to be dead and it would all be her fault—what would she—how could she ever—

" _S—Sergeant—32557—Barnes—"_

" _Bucky_!"

She couldn't tell if the scream came from her lips or from someone else's, but the way Bucky's whispers were starting to trail off, growing weaker as the seconds ticked by,  _terrified_  her in a way nothing else had  _ever_  managed, because she  _knew_ , she  _knew_  she was destined to lose him and Steve both… she was going to lose them before she ever really got a chance to know them both, or before she got a chance to make a case for herself, to see if they,  _war heroes,_ could offer even a little bit of their heart to a wretched soul such as this cave proved that she was.

" _Bucky! I'm coming!"_

Toni winced at the reminder, frozen, still, in her place in the cave. She was a prisoner, as much as Bucky, as much as she'd been that first day.

She was going to lose him, lose them, but she wasn't  _ready_  for it to happen, she wasn't ready to  _see_  it happening—

But suddenly,  _suddenly_  she knew whose voice that was she was hearing, whose voice was becoming even clearer as it moved closer towards her, towards Bucky, in the cave.

_S—Steve?_

Steve? Steve was here?

Something akin to  _relief_  flooded her system, because she may not always like the man, but she knew he'd get them out, she knew he'd save them and they'd be  _okay_.

Wouldn't they?

And then suddenly, he was there, he was beside her, he was lifting her hands, he was holding both of hers in his too-large hands, and staring down at the car battery connected to her bared chest—and then quickly meeting her eyes, holding her eyes and staring at her with that hated  _horror_  in them but quickly wiped clean and replaced by grief and compassion and a tenderness she was fast learning was hidden behind all his bull-headedness.

And then he had both of her hands in one of his as he reached tentatively towards the source of her life, curiosity in his gaze, and fascination… and where before she had never liked anyone touching it—had  _feared_  them touching it—she wasn't going to stop him, was in fact holding her breath in anticipation of what he was going to do next—

A scream tore through the caverns, blood-curdling in its intensity— _Christ_ , she didn't even want to come  _close_  to thinking about what could make a living being make that sound, let alone  _Bucky_ , and it was him, oh it was  _him_ —and Steve jumped away from Toni immediately. They both knew who it was. They knew who it was in an instant, and they could see it reflected in each other's eyes, the guilt evident on each other's faces, the pain and self-recrimination welling up, all within a moment.

They had distracted each other.

And this was the danger of triad bonds.

She knew exactly what Steve was going to do before he did it, and she didn't even blame him—it was exactly what she would have done, given the situation, given the choice. He broke their eye contact, his shoulders slumped, but only for a moment, as he turned around… and then he firmed them once more, and raced off in the direction of the moans of their—of  _his_ —soulmate.

Well fuck if that didn't hurt.

And it was going to hurt more when she woke up and faced them and what they had subconsciously—or not so subconsciously—decided, but she may as well get up and fucking face it.

Just like she always did, even if more often than not she took the long way around.

But she wasn't going to do that by listening to her soulmates cry in each other's arms, no matter how muted the words may be as they carried down the pitted halls to her ears. Right now, that was more painful than the only option she'd ever found to deliberately expel herself from the fucking cave.

Toni didn't even steel herself before yanking the car battery from where it was tethered to her chest.

* * *

_**November 13** **th** **, 1944, SSR Base, London, Great Britain**_

Toni barely held in the scream as she shot straight up in bed, but she wasn't able to stop the jerking of her limbs as they instinctively curled up around her arc reactor in a defensive position. Toni breathed in deeply, quickly trying to gain control of her body again—she'd done this one too many times, and knew how to pull herself together again.

Dreams. Nightmares. The world, even if science could not quite explain it yet, had long since known that these dreams could affect the physical world, even on the unbonded.

And now… Toni let out a long, slow breath as she untangled her limbs, lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling as she pressed a steady hand against the casing of the arc reactor, slipped underneath her t-shirt.

And now she'd had Steve Rogers in her dreams. If she wasn't mistaken—hell no, she wasn't, she most certainly wasn't—Barnes had been in there, too, and fuck— _fuck_ —listening to his whispers, listening to his screams, listening to him say his name, his division, his serial number in that halting, half-dead way…

_Fuck._

She had wanted to go to him so badly, to make it stop, to make whatever was hurting him stop, to whisk him away from it all, but it was as if she'd been frozen to the cot, held there by the weight of her fear—the trauma she had never fully escaped—and she couldn't move, couldn't go to him, and then Rogers had been there, and everything had just faded away…

Faded away to just them.

Steve had looked at her as if she had been important, as if she wasn't just a mere pitiable curiosity. He hadn't looked at her as if she were something to be dissected and put down, or as if she were something to be used and discarded, wanted only for what she could offer him and then no longer kept around when she had outlived her purposed.

No, instead Steve had looked at her as if she was strong all on her own merits, as if she was someone who could be  _trusted_ , as if she could be an  _ally_ , as if she was someone he wanted at his side in a fight, whatever type of fight that might be. As if she were someone that could potentially be trusted with so much more than all that.

But Steve had also looked at her as if she were something that he was fascinated by, something he was mesmerized by, something that had piqued his artist's curiosity… and she had looked at him in kind.

And then—

And then the scream had reminded them that there was another.

The scream had reminded Steve that he had already chosen.

The scream had reminded Toni that he hadn't chosen her.

And Toni had woken.

Toni threw herself from the covers and then the bed itself, staggering a little as both the cold of hardwood floors on her bare feet and a headache suddenly making itself known at the base of her skull hit her at the same time. She glanced around the room, looking for the two other occupants whose bed she had taken over, and found them wrapped around each other on a small cot on the far side of the room, close to the dying embers of a small fireplace.

They were both covered under blankets so she couldn't see much except for the top of their heads, the blond and brunet hairs intermingling in a rather beautiful way, but the way that they were shivering and shaking under the covers belied the quality of their slumber.

Toni's lips twisted, and she didn't quite know what to think, too many emotions swirling around inside of her, and the pounding of her head growing steadily worse—but certainly, irrefutably  _not_  the worst hangover she'd ever experienced.

Too much shit to wade through for her to figure out what the fuck she was feeling.

She'd just swim along and figure shit out as she went.

Toni stumbled, way less gracefully than she wished, but fuck it, to the small little bathroom that contained a toilet, a sink, and a mirror. She shut herself in, used the amenities, and then splashed cold,  _cold_  water on her face, waking herself up as best she could without coffee.

"Christ, you guys better have some  _real_  coffee here," she mumbled at her reflection.

She pulled her normally curly, but now equal parts frizzy and oily—and not the normal motor oil from her workshop, nope—hair from its bun, and redid it into some semblance of a better one, and then washed her hands, before opening the door, and leaning on the doorjamb, and just… taking in the sight before her.

She hadn't ever really stopped to think, through all the tales that Howard had told her, about how young these men had been. She hadn't even really thought about how young her  _father_  had been, until she'd seen him last night, and that hadn't sunk in truly until last night, when she'd been listening to the men tell her about their lives as they'd been drinking round after round.

It had been nice, so very nice, but it had also been informative.

It had hurt that she hadn't been asked to spend time with the captain and sergeant,  _but_ … she understood.

Toni didn't really have a place with them. Not yet. Not right now. She might in the future. Being soulmates didn't just automatically afford her a place with them; she had to work for it. She respected that. She was okay with that.

Even if it did still hurt, at least a little bit.

It's not like she could  _really_  control her feelings.

Toni took a few steps into the room, and then sat down on the edge of the bed closest to the cot. She could see James' face from this angle, but Steve's face was hidden behind his soulmate's spread out hair.

And they were most definitely James and Steve now. James looked so young in his sleep, and the stories she had heard last night, and the way that her brain could fill in the gaps of all the knowledge she'd gathered over the years, dredged up from the pits of her mind…

They were younger than they acted. They were so much younger than her thirty-eight years.

But they were also so much older.  _War_  made them older—it made them  _all_  older. James, Steve, the rest of the Howling Commandos… her  _father_.

It made them older in a way that Afghanistan had made  _her_  older. There was no way to compare the two, but…  _fuck_ , who was she kidding? Her experience was fucking  _peanuts_  compared to what they were going through—what they  _had_  gone through, and—

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 107th Infantry Division. 32557038…" James mumbled.

Toni was up and off of her seat on the edge of the bed, hovering over James and Steve, her eyes wide with fear and realization that she had  _left them in the dream_. She had left them in her dream, their dream,  _whatever the fuck it was_ , she had left them in there, and hadn't even thought about it, not really, when she had gotten out. She'd just assumed that their dream would switch, or that they weren't there, or, or—

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is my fault, shit, James, I'm so sorry, please, forgive me, come on, you gotta wake up, okay?" Toni muttered, and then she cupped James' cheeks with both hands and gave him a firm little shake.

Within moments he was awake, blinking his eyes open, alertness asserting itself almost immediately. He sat up smoothly, disentangling himself from Steve and waking him all in one motion, obviously cultivated through years of practice, years of knowing each other.

"Toni?" he queried, brushing his hair back from his eyes, and away from his forehead. "What's going on? You alright?" He sounded genuinely concerned, and Toni couldn't help but to smile softly in response.

"I'm okay. I need some coffee for sure, and my stomach's protesting something fierce, but I'm more concerned about you at the moment. You okay?" Toni cast a glance at Steve as he propped himself up on one elbow, wiping a fist across his eyes to clear the sleep from them, but then looked away before she could catch his eyes.

She looked to James again, and he was eyeing her curiously. "I'm alright, why?" he asked with an arched brow.

"You—"

"We were caught in your dream," Steve cut in, sitting up fully now, cross-legged, and reaching over to smooth his hand across James' forehead and through his hair. Something about the way he was speaking was resigned, but affectionate, but… Toni couldn't quite place it all. It had to be something unique to the two of them; to the years they had been together. "Toni was in her own," Steve continued, "and you were in yours, and then I got pulled into a weird meld of the two of them but we both heard you…" He paused, but there was a heaviness to the silence, and then James looked at him, and his face shuttered, just a little, and he stood.

By the time James was standing, he had donned a smile and cast to his eyes—though there was pain behind them, still—that could only be called  _Bucky_ , and he straightened his clothes before speaking. "I'll run and grab us something from the kitchens to tide us over until breakfast," he announced. "Steve'll chew a hole in the wall if we don't pack him full, and I'm not much better," he laughed, and the laugh reached his eyes, Toni was thankful to notice, but it was too short, and her eyes widened just a hair, and she couldn't help the instinctive movement to follow him out the door, to make sure he was okay.

A hand wrapped around her wrist—light enough not to break anything, but strong enough to hold, and Christ, that man knew exactly what amount of strength and pressure to use and when—stopped her in her tracks and pulled her back down to where she was sitting sideways on her hip on the cot, opposite Steve, in the room that he shared with his soulmate James, who had just left to get them some food.

What the hell was her life, really?

She finally caught his eyes, for the first time since he woke up, let alone since… well, she couldn't really remember, honestly, so it had to be at least the day before… He released her wrist slowly, once she relaxed onto the cot, holding his gaze the entire time. There was something electrifying about his eyes, the blue just fucking unfairly intense off of the blue of his haphazardly-buttoned uniform jacket which he'd apparently thrown on after she arrived last night.

"He'll be fine," Steve said, and she blinked, looking away from his eyes, trying to pull herself back together again. Toni looked at the door, not fully latched, though still granting privacy, and she chewed on her lip as she couldn't help  _but_  to worry for the man Steve was saying would be fine. "It's… it's not something he'll ever get over—" and here Steve's tone was edged with anger and pain and even  _fear_ , "—but it's something that he has to overcome on his own. Or, at least, this part of it."

Then there were long, slender fingers— _artist's fingers,_ Toni thought hazily _—_ touching her chin, tilting it around until she was meeting his eyes again, and he was searching her gaze for something, she was sure. She didn't quite know what it was, but she could probably guess, by his next words: "The other part of it, I promise, I,  _we_  help him fight. We'll help him win, help the rest of the soldiers win, too, and… Toni?" He kept his fingers against her chin, but lightly, not possessively, and they moved every so often, as if they were learning her skin… learning  _her_.

"Yes?" she asked, quietly.

"We need all the help we can get to help us win that fight, Toni." His words were just as quiet, as if they were speaking secrets, but they weren't, not really. It… it sort of felt like it, though, with the quality of the words, the tone, the subject…  _what_  he was asking of her…

He wanted her around.

 _He_  wanted her around.

To help protect James. To fight for James.

"Yes," Toni whispered, suddenly feeling like she was no longer drifting with nowhere to go, no tether tying her down. Suddenly feeling as if she had a purpose in the past where she didn't belong, where she had been feeling less than useless, less than wanted, and where she had been pondering the many ways to return to her own time where just scant days ago she had been trying to get  _here_. It didn't matter, suddenly, that she knew what befell these two men. She had a purpose, and she could do this, and figure everything  _else_  out as she went.

Steve held her eyes, and she his, and in them she saw more than she probably thought he wanted her to see. The bond between them had been dormant since they'd woken, as half-fulfilled bonds sometimes did, but the eyes… sometimes the eyes could tell more.

But then his fingers swept from her chin, across her jaw, and down the outside of her neck, and Toni tilted her head into the movement, her eyelids fluttering partially shut and breaking their eye contact.

It was enough to let reality sink back in. Steve didn't want her. Or, at least, not yet. And she had to respect that. There were boundaries and, as much as the media called her a slut, she never fucking moved in on another man or woman's territory.

She pulled her face gently out of Steve's hand, making the movement seem natural, and not alerting him to her thoughts with her actions, or her body language, or the expression on her face.

Silence settled over them then, though not entirely awkward, as they waited for James to return with the food. Steve stood up within moments to go to the bathroom and rinse his face in the sink, returning to the cot and sitting opposite Toni in the same position he had been earlier, as if he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

It made Toni smile, just a little, to herself, because it was such a  _human_  characteristic to this man that her father had made into a  _god_ , and it felt… reassuring, in an odd way.

It helped.

"I'm sorry."

Toni's head snapped up as Steve's words stabbed into the comfortable silence that had surrounded them. She was sure she knew what he was apologizing for, what he was going to expound on, and she would really rather avoid this conversation like every other awkward and personal conversation she had avoided in her entire life. Or, at least, tried to avoid.

But she sighed, and then she narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, knowing there was no escaping this, and then relaxed her entire body and sighed again, in a manner that accepted the inevitability of the conversation that was incoming—well, it might be a monologue, or a soliloquy, or a villain's speech, even… whatever Steve wanted to call it, as long as it was just him talking, if Toni had her way.

But damn him, he still looked so  _young_ , and it was throwing her, and even though she'd thought it earlier, she still couldn't help but to think it again, to have it sear across her brain _._

It'd been so easy to get caught up in what he looked like, in Steve's serious I-mean-business attitude, that it had been all too easy to forget that he was practically a  _child_. He was twenty-six, for God's sake.

And doing a  _damn_  fine job of keeping her attention off of the fact that  _he_  had been in a nightmare right alongside she and James.

But she respected him, she respected personal fears and demons—she wouldn't bring it up unless she had to.

Toni fidgeted a little, and looked away again. She wasn't sure what she'd expected him to say after James had left them to find something to tie Steve's super soldier metabolism over until breakfast—but it sure as fuck hadn't been  _sorry_.

"I've been…" He hesitated, and Toni  _hated_  this conversation already, even though it sure as fuck hadn't even started yet, because she  _knew_ , she knew it would make her Feel things.

Yep. Capital letter F.

She  _hated_  feeling things.

"Look," Steve spoke up again, drawing her attention back to him as he angled himself until he faced her more directly on the small cot. "I've been unfair to you. I'm sorry. It's… We gotta be careful, right now. Soulmate or not, I couldn't take the risk of just…  _trusting_  you for the sake of it when the lives of my men depended on it. When  _Bucky's_  life depended on it. We were behind enemy lines. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't take a risk like that."

"But you didn't," Toni whispered, replying despite her firm determination  _not_  to—the one,  _single_  fucking time she tried to control her impulses. "You didn't want to."

She could tell he was telling the truth, and after the things Toni had seen in Rimini, she couldn't even blame him for wanting to exercise that kind of caution, because  _fuck him_ , he was too perfect, but it's exactly what she would have done, as well, so who the fuck was she to fault him?

It was even what she had been telling herself. She'd been all set to wait, to be patient, but  _fuck_ , when someone put her back up, it just made her want to  _fight_.

But no. She didn't blame him for not trusting her right off the bat, despite the soulmate thing…

No, she blamed him for not even being willing to see what their soulmate connection meant. He had shut her down completely and instantly.

"No," Steve admitted quietly, ducking his head down and hunching his shoulders as he stared at his hands. "I didn't want to."

And it  _hurt_.

It  _hurt_  so much more than she had thought was possible to hear the admission out loud; to have the confirmation that even her goddamned  _soulmate_  didn't want her. "Great," she said hollowly, valiantly struggling to pull up her mask, so he couldn't see how he could  _hurt_  her,  _shatter_  her with just a few words if he wanted to. "Glad we had this talk, Cap. Let's not do it again, shall we?"

"No," Steve burst out, fingers curling around her arm before Toni had the chance to pull herself away from him. "I'm not… saying this right. I'm not  _good_  at talking to dames.  _Women_. That's… Bucky's always been the ladies' man, not me."

She stared at him, unsure of what to do—what to  _say,_  because sassing this man just meant he'd sass her back twice as hard and she had  _no idea_  what to do with any of this, and really… the look on his face, it just made her still, keeping her eyes trained on him, trying to contain the little sizzle that was spreading through her bloodstream from where the man was touching her.

But within moments, Steve loosened his grip and leaned back a little before he shrugged. "I'm selfish," he said quietly, as though it were the worst thing he'd ever admitted to, and—

Toni couldn't help herself. She snorted at him, and shook her head, pulling her arm from the loose grip of his fingers, shoving the part of her brain that protested the action into a deep dark pit. "Right.  _You_. Captain America, golden boy, who was brave enough to let a scientist experiment on him for the good of his country, who saved three-hundred men from behind enemy lines when no one else would?  _You're_  selfish? Gimme a fucking break, Cap."

Steve's laughter surprised her, more so because of the hysterical note to it, and the acute feeling of  _nausea_  that poked through their muted connection—the first feeling of the day, and it was enough to make Toni want to make a break for the bathroom, muted as it was on her end.

His gut must be practically  _roiling_.

"I signed up because I wanted to," Steve spit harshly, anger and hurt and resentment broiling in his blue eyes. "Because I  _needed_  to be doing something worthwhile. I didn't want to be left behind. The day Bucky got his orders…"

There was something  _dark_ , something painful tugging at their underdeveloped bond, and Toni felt at a loss. What the hell was she supposed to do? Steve continued, regardless of Toni's obvious confusion, words tumbling from his lips almost faster than he could say them, and suddenly—

—suddenly Toni realized that he'd never been able to say these things before, and that  _that_  was what she was feeling through the bond. He hadn't been able to say these things before, not even to Bucky.

His Bucky, the man who was his soulmate, his  _everything_.

Toni was privy to something that Bucky was not, but she wasn't filled with the satisfaction that she felt she might otherwise have been. Instead… instead she felt sick, and she wasn't sure if it was because she knew, in that split second before Steve opened his mouth, what he was about to say, or if it was because she was feeling the residual effect of the punch-to-the-gut look that was on Steve's face.

Whatever it was, Toni swallowed down the bile that was pushing its way up her throat, and stilled herself as much as she could, clamping both of her hands around the other's wrists, and forcing her knees and ankles into the least obvious pattern of jittering.

Toni had to learn, and for that she had to  _listen_.

And this…  _them_ … it, they, were important.

"The day he got his orders was the worst day of my  _life_." Steve's eyes were a little red-rimmed and a whole lot desperate. He looked a lot sicker than he had moments before, if that were possible and, before Toni could second-guess herself, she held back her nausea—which was really  _his_  nausea, ugh,  _soulbonds_ —unravelled her hands, and reached out to tap her fingers on the back of his hand, and then rested her hand beside his knee on the cot, a handbreadth between them.

It was all she could offer, but it seemed like it might just be enough.

"He was supposed to be mine," Steve whispered, hoarse and quiet like he was admitting to the gravest of sins. "I didn't have much of anything in life, but I had my soulmate, and he was  _mine_. And the army… the  _war_ … They were taking him from me, and I didn't want to let that happen, so I kept trying and trying, and nothing was working… but when I got the chance to join him, I took it. Not for my country, but for me.

"All I did, all my accomplishments, all of it was built on a lie. Every last bit of Captain America was formed on top of the hypocrisy that is Steve Rogers, a… a…" and his voice dropped so low that she almost couldn't hear it, "… _queer_  who's living a lie and didn't become…  _this_ —" he gestured angrily towards his own body, "—just to save his country. I did it for me, so I could be near the man I  _love_."

And then he just… slumped.

He looked years older than he truly was, almost even older than  _she_  was, and even with his face hidden she could see the toll that this war had taken on him; the toll the lies, the half-truths, the hiding… just… the toll  _everything_  had taken on him. He looked so weary, as if he was ready to simply pack up the shield, grab Bucky, and head home right then, but she also knew… well, she  _felt_ … that there was more there.

That he  _did_  care for his country, and Europe, and the world, and the injustices being perpetrated wholesale across the globe.

But here? In this moment? Toni wished she could say he was lying, that Steve was over-exaggerating, but she could feel how much he meant every single word and it threw her. It fit in with everything that she knew about him, but it also… didn't. There was that little bit that didn't quite fit…

Well, but then again, she didn't really  _know him_ , did she now?

Hah, well there was a depressing thought that was going to be shoved directly out of her head.

But seriously, Toni had no idea what to do here. She had no idea what to say. She had no idea where to even begin, and she doubted Pepper, or even Rhodey, as a soldier, would know where to go from here.

So Toni stayed quiet, mulling over his words, mulling over everything he'd said, parsing it, stripping it into its component parts, seeing if there was something she could use—an in, so to speak, for how she could better understand his mind and what he needed in this moment.

What they both needed—or maybe even all three of them. Actually, yes. All three of them. Christ, they were all  _so_  fucking fucked up, it wasn't even funny at this point.

Steve beat her to filling the silence—and wasn't  _that_  concerning, she should really get that looked at…

After she paid attention to Steve, because, y'know, important, life-altering confessions going on.

"I saved those men because I was looking for Bucky," he continued, eyes downcast to where his fingers had curled into the bedspread. "I would never have done it if Bucky hadn't been there. If it hadn't been his Division… all I could think about was that he was in there and if they weren't going to rescue him,  _I_ would. I didn't care about anyone else. I didn't do any of it for them. I did it because  _I_ couldn't bear to lose my soulmate. Everyone could rot for all I cared, and I seriously…" He made a small choking sound, but wouldn't meet Toni's eyes, still looking at his fingers. But he continued, so he must be fine. "I seriously remember thinking that that day, and even on the way there. I told myself— _me_ , Captain America,  _fuck_ —"

And it was a mark of how fucking serious this conversation had become—or how fucking feelingsed out she'd become—that she didn't comment at all on his language except for a quick drawn in breath.

But he wasn't done yet.

He looked up at her and she was struck by the sincerity in his gaze as he changed track and whispered, voice raw, "And then you showed up. And you could take him from me again."

Oh.

_Oh._

And suddenly, it made  _so much_  sense.

"Steve," she said softly, reaching over, oh so slowly, and gently uncurling his fingers from where they'd balled into fists. "I'm not trying to take him from you. That's not—it's not—"

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head and shooting her a quick, tight smile that looked nothing like the smile she had seen him give Bucky before the other man left. "I know it's not, I just…" He shrugged helplessly and looked up at her with the saddest, most self-deprecating smile she'd ever seen on anyone—including herself. "I love him. And even when I didn't have anything, I had Bucky. I guess I don't think I'm ready for that to change."

"Triads," Toni stated simply, relating his fear to what she had seen from him in her nightmare.

"They're dangerous," was all he said, his face clamming right up.

She studied him, silence dragging between them. Then finally, she admitted, more softly than she'd spoken in a long time, "They can be."

Steve met her eyes, startled, as if he hadn't expected her to agree with him. And she wasn't, not really.

"Where I'm from…  _when_ , I suppose…" she corrected with a small smile, and Steve quirked one corner of his lips in response as well. "Triads are becoming more accepted. I am not trying to convince you, Steve, just offering information that I have, and that you don't. Is that not better than being ignorant?" she asked.

Steve gritted his jaw, looked away, and then his whole body relaxed as if on command. "Go on, please," he requested quietly.

"There's been more research into triad bonds," Toni continued. "On why they form and the psychological aspects of three people loving each other, on if it is equal or if it is two plus a platonic, etcetera, etcetera. But there has also been research done on triad blindness. I… I didn't pay a ton of attention to it, but I'm sure I could remember some of it. It'll be gathering dust in my brain somewhere, and believe you me, it's a big brain. And the research was… positive. I am  _truly_  not trying to insert myself into your relationship, Steve… Captain." Toni pulled her mask over her features, but softened her eyes just a touch when she met the man's gaze.

She needed him to believe her, because she meant it. "I only go where I'm wanted,  _however_  it is I'm wanted, at least in this regard." She let the corners of her lips lift up slightly, in a small, sad smile to herself. Not for him; he wouldn't understand. Not yet. She continued, stronger, "I simply ask that perhaps you keep an open mind on the concept that triad bonds may not be as bad as you think they are; as dangerous. And they can be platonic, as well, if that is… Or…"

"Toni."

She stopped as soon as the first consonant passed his lips—she couldn't help it.

He reached towards her, but then dropped his hand to rest on his knee instead, but looked her steadily in the eye. Then, shaking his head, he reached both of his hands up and cupped her jaw firmly, but not so hard that she couldn't break free if she didn't want to, leaning that little bit closer to do so. Toni's eyes widened, and she could feel her skin heat at the contact, the blush staining her chest and rising up her neck and into her cheeks. She knew that he could see it, even with his large hands cupping half her cheeks, but it was too late to hide, and honestly when had she ever hidden from anything?

Toni Stark looked Steve Rogers head on.

"What?" she asked evenly.

"I meant what I said earlier, about having you with me, with us, to fight Bucky's war, to fight this war with us. To protect him. I want that." He gulped, and then looked up and away, briefly, his eyelashes glinting golden in the sunlight that was slowly starting to peek through the windows. "But I also… I also want…" His fingers twitched just a little against her skin and she tilted her head a fraction, curious now, whereas before she just sort of wanted to hide. Steve continued, "… you remind me of me a little, actually, which could be either bad or good, but I like to think we could be friends? And Bucky seems to like you a lot already. Uh… uh, I mean, I uh…"

"It's okay, I understand," Toni said gently as she stood smoothly, Steve's hands falling easily into his lap. And she did. She understood what he meant. She understood that he wanted to get to know her, that James did as well, and that they could use another hand in this war they were fighting. And… oh.

_Oh._

Well, he  _had_  said he was queer earlier.

Maybe there wasn't room for her here in that way, at all.

And  _fuck_ , she might say the word all the time, but that was  _not_  the main drive of Toni fucking Stark, and she could damn-well be what these men needed, and them what she needed, without a fucking inch of fucking going on.

And hey, the man had given her permission to tag along with the fucking  _Howling Commandos_.

She could die celibate and still be happy.

Well, okay, maybe not, but the  _sentiment_  was there.

Toni smiled down at Steve, one of the most open ones she'd given since she'd arrived.

"I know what you meant. I'll help you, as best I can, and help protect him. And through it all, we'll get to know each other, and get to be friends, and see what fate has in store for us, right? And I get to follow you guys around! This'll be a blast, really!"

Steve smiled a little less assuredly up at her, as if he was questioning his entire existence—and Toni couldn't help but smile, as it was a look she was entirely too familiar with—but he stood all the same, and when he did, Toni said, "Alright, well, a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do. I'm gonna go find the showers, wherever the hell they are, I figure I'll run into them eventually, but  _damn_ I need them! I smell six ways to Sunday, and you seriously  _are_  from the forties if you haven't mentioned it by now, so…  _yeah,_ see ya!"

And with that, sparing not a single glance for the man, she was out the door, not even missing a beat as she changed her angle to barely avoid a half-smiling, half-confused James with a blown kiss, and giving a little wiggle of her fingers to Dugan, who tipped his hat to her with a little smirk, and Peggy Carter, who managed to sweep Toni from head to toes and right back up a good two or three times in the five seconds it took to get by them in the crowded, narrow hall.

But finally she got by.

" _Fuck_ ," Toni grumbled to herself, halfway down the stairs at the end of the private corridor. "I forgot to bitch out Captain fucking America for taking over my fucking dream. Asshole."

But there wasn't much heat to it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's... been 5 weeks? Yep, I know it, you know it. Long story short is that I had some serious health problems including one event than kept me away from computers and my phone for 20 days, and it was hard getting this one done because of the content. It was delicate. The AMAZING NEWS is that I have a rheumatology appointment finally and it's THIS Tuesday!! Can you believe it!? It's a step forward in getting my life back on track!
> 
> Anyway! It's done, it's here. It's a slow burn, so have no fear! (Heh. Unintentional rhyme.) These idiots will get there eventually. Right now they're just blundering around in the dark, hurting each other. But I suppose right now they're actually a little less hurt than they were before? So that's something!
> 
> A friend of mine who is reading this story is a friggin' _phenomenal_ artist and she gifted me with some art after chapter 6 that was inspired by Cross. They're just... *flails* Check them out, [here](https://juuls.tumblr.com/post/165704647986/take-a-breath-before-we-change-the-world-the) and [here](http://panda-capuccino.tumblr.com/post/165730327742/so-here-comes-another-piece-based-on-juuls-s)(nsfw)!
> 
> Thank you, as ever, to my amazing beta Annaelle/Cuthian. She threw in a lot of the original content of the Bucky dream idea and the "I'm sorry" Steve-Toni conversation before I then mushed it all up into... whatever this now is. But the bones are there, and they are hers, and they are beautiful! Love you, doll. You helped pull this off.
> 
> Thank you, readers, old and new alike. Thank you for sticking around and standing by me. My time in this fandom and ship has so far been an amazingly pleasant one. I've been trying to make new friends, and to all those who have reached out to me on Tumblr at my blog [@juuls](https://juuls.tumblr.com/) and through comments, you're simply awesome. Thank you everyone. (And yes, please come say hi! Believe it or not, I actually am kind of shy, and I really do want to make new friends, because I'm so new to the fandom!)
> 
> xoxo
> 
> (Edit 1/18/18: I'm still around... health is crap, working at this really slowly, so sorry all!!! Didn't help that I had the commitment of two gift exchange pieces right before my health went kaput and it's not like chronically ill people get better quickly. So... yeah. I'm not making any guesses when I'll have something, but I'm working on it!)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my word, it's been so long! I'm so sorry, dear readers. It's been... a rough ride. Mental and physical health has been hitting me hard. Since the last time I posted, I've started physiotherapy, and it's been tough, but I have been able to get my hands to a place where they're not hurting so much, as often. But that doesn't automatically mean I can write. It's been hard. I've been struggling a lot with the memories of my abuse, and my creative drive has plummeted as a result. We're... figuring things out. My divorce was finalized just before Christmas, though!!! So yay!
> 
> But anyway, I'm so very glad that I finally felt the pull to write this again. Because this is my baby now. I love Cross, and it hurt that I didn't feel capable of writing this.
> 
> I did push myself to fulfill my vow to participate in two gift exchanges, however, if you're interested! A Stony one called [Paper Boats](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082958), and a WinterIron one called [Bone Deep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13083813).
> 
> I'm really glad to be back, and I'm excited about what's coming up next in this story! In this chapter and the following ones.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments feed the soul. Chicken soup for the soul, haha!
> 
> Thank you for your support, everyone. <3 <3 <3

" _Fuck," Toni grumbled to herself, halfway down the stairs at the end of the private corridor. "I forgot to bitch out Captain fucking America for taking over my fucking dream. Asshole."_

Bucky seriously couldn't be faulted for not being able to hold in the bark of laughter that erupted from his throat. It was either that, or he was going to choke. That woman… He shook his head in fond exasperation. Not even the harsh memory of his dream could tarnish the bright feeling inside him at hearing her words and the way she said them, because there was just something so… so… so irreverent, so unique, so…  _Toni_  about it all, and he was fast becoming fascinated and drawn in by her, intrigued and distracted and—

Well, that way lay its own brand of quicksand.

He'd meant what he said to Steve. It had been him and Steve for over a decade, and he had believed it would be him and Steve to the end of line. He wasn't  _opposed_  to there being a third with them—he wasn't opposed to  _Toni_  being with them—but he understood the primal  _fear_ in Steve's mind when it came to the subject.

He wouldn't do anything unless it felt right for  _all_  of them.

But it didn't mean he couldn't be amused by her. It didn't mean he didn't want to be her friend. It didn't mean that he couldn't laugh at the way she spoke, even if it was—only slightly—deriding Steve.

'Captain fucking America,' hah.

Nothing they hadn't heard before, from sneering fellow-soldiers to giggly USO dancing girls, but there was a certain fond quality to the way Toni said it…

Bucky wasn't too sure what would have changed between his best guy and his… his  _Toni_  in the time he'd been raiding the kitchen, but it certainly suggested they'd at least found some common ground. He hoped it wasn't foolish to hope Stevie hadn't shoved his foot right back in his mouth on the first opportunity.

"What's the kerfuffle, sergeant?" a lilting voice intruded on his musings, and Bucky pulled himself out of his thoughts and back to his surroundings with only a little reluctance.

"Well  _hello_  my dearest Agent Margaret Elizabeth Carter." Bucky pasted on his brightest smile as he turned, winking teasingly at Peggy as he ducked the playful swipe of her hand towards his temple.

It was all in good fun.

He and Peggy got on like a house on fire. The look on Steve's face when he'd realized this and was forced to resign to his fate was still burned into Bucky's memory. It still made him crack up, even now. He'd known from the moment they'd met that she was no wilting flower or a weak-kneed dame. Peggy was a woman with more moxie than any man Bucky had ever met.

"Good morning, Sergeant Barnes," Peggy chuckled, crossing her arms as she regarded him with a raised eyebrow and a look in her eye so  _knowing_  that it nearly made Bucky squirm on the spot.

She always did see right through him.

She'd known about him and Steve before she'd ever even seen them  _together_ , before she'd ever seen them breathe in the same air—

Before she'd witnessed Bucky tear his  _stupid punk_  a new one for signing himself up for an experimental, damn-well near-lethal treatment the second Bucky turned his goddamned back.

Stupid. His stupid fucking fella.

Steve was just lucky he'd worked off most of his anger ranting at Peggy by the time he'd seen him in person after…  _that_. Plus, well, there was Azzano…

Bucky suppressed a shiver at the reminder of the place that had thoroughly undone so much of who he was, and then a flash of his nightmare from barely an hour ago ran through his mind and he forcibly blocked it out, thinking of anything but… that.

Peggy. Yes, her.

The woman who had latched onto his and Steve's secret long before anyone else. She'd known who and what they were, and hadn't given one shit about it. Peggy was… she was Peggy, and he loved her in his own way, just as Steve did, and they would do whatever the hell it took to protect her—as long as she didn't think they were deliberately protecting her, because damn, they'd be castrated if she ever thought that. They would protect her, just like they promised her that they'd protect her soulmate, the man who was everything to her—

"You look positively  _knackered_ ," Peggy remarked dryly, patting his cheek gently in a gesture that would be condescending coming from  _anyone_  but their Peggy. It grounded him, pulling him easily from the mental precipice he was perched on, and he leaned into the touch slightly before she let her hand fall. Peggy dropped her voice then, even though she knew the hallway contained only the rooms of the Howling Commandos. "Does that mean we'll be finding our dearest captain in a similar state?"

Bucky snorted a laugh as she waggled her eyebrows at him, nearly dropping the cloth sacks filled with food that he had snatched from the cookery.

Before he could, Dugan swept in—where the fuck had  _he_ come from?—and rescued the bags from his loose grip. "Lemme get that, Bucky-Bear."

Bucky mock-glared at the other man—that stupid Captain America propaganda had grown to surround them all and of course  _he_  was the one that got the worst of it. Stupid  _Bucky bears_ … the men couldn't get enough of teasing him about that. But Bucky let it slide, as usual, and saw the trajectory Dugan was aiming for, Peggy reaching for the door to hold it open for the burly man.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and then called out, "Hey doll, we got guests!"—using that nickname in front of others just to piss Stevie off—before following Peggy and Dugan into his and Steve's room at the top of the S.S.R. dorm.

"Shoulda known you three was making all the ruckus." Bucky grinned at his fella in response, his sight going soft around the edges as he looked at Steve sitting cross-legged on top of the tiny cot they'd slept on, hair ruffled and the curve of his lips still soft with sleep. Stevie's Brooklyn always came in thicker when he was tired. "You coulda woken up the whole regiment. They'll have your heads."

"Monty's downstairs getting ready to head off to see the wife and his little ladies," Dugan said as he crossed the room to the small table to the right of the fireplace, in front of the small window that showed just the faintest hint of frost still clinging to it despite the warmth inside the room. Dugan set the two cloth sacks down on the table and started to pull out the breakfast items that Bucky had raided from the kitchen for him and Steve—it looked like they'd be sharing, at least a little. Peggy sat in one of the chairs at the table, but pushed herself away from the table a good foot as she crossed her ankles one over the other, making no motion towards the food.

Perhaps they wouldn't be sharing after all—Peggy had never asked too many questions about Bucky's elevated need for food. He knew that he ate enough to rival Steve's appetite, and that it probably made people…  _curious_.

Still, she said nothing. Steve said nothing.  _Bucky_  said nothing.

Even though he wondered… even though he craved an answer for what was done to him, for why he came out of Azzano the way he did, for why he was a changed man, in more than one way, and likely in ways he couldn't even guess at. Not yet, at least.

For now it was best for all of them to just… pretend.

Pretend he was perfectly alright, perfectly normal.

Because once he knew… if there really was something changed about him… there was no going back. There would be consequences, and Bucky didn't mind admitting he was scared of what those would be. Didn't mind admitting he was scared of knowing  _how_  he'd been changed, what he only suspected he could do now, after Azzano.

He didn't mind admitting it—to himself, at least.

It was best to just lock it all away, and not to look deep. As much as he craved an answer… he also  _feared_  that answer.

"The rest," Dugan continued, and Bucky lazily returned his attention back to the large man, "are likely still swimming in so much ale that I imagine they'll be asleep for another four, five hours. It's their day off and it's only seven in the morning, plus the men weren't even in bed until four, I don't think. We brought Toni here a little before that, maybe… three thirty, three forty-five?" He glanced around inquisitively as he placed the last item on the table and folded the sack up, tucking it to the side absently. "She had more to drink than the rest—I'm surprised she's not still sleeping, or cursing us to the moon and back. Where is she, anyway?" he asked.

"Didn't you hear her, Timothy?" Peggy asked. It was obviously rhetorical, as she answered her own question immediately with a little smile playing at her lips, "She went to find the showers so as not to, apparently—and I'm paraphrasing here—offend us with her smell." Peggy smirked a little at that, and Bucky couldn't help but smile in response, his body relaxing minutely at the evidence that maybe, just maybe, Peggy would like his soulm—Toni—that she would like Toni.

What a fucking mess, honestly.

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Dugan good-naturedly. But then his voice softened, and his eyes turned inward, a frown tugging at his lips. "I heard her. Saw her, too. She looked as spooked as I've seen her yet, something wild in her eyes that she was trying to hide. A shower and food will do her good, but I think she'll need more than that to set herself to rights—if she even can. I've seen…" His voice lowered, and his face scrunched up. "I've seen men who… succumbed… who look more at peace than she does."

He whispered the word 'succumbed' as if it were a dirty word—and it practically was. It  _was_  a dirty word, truly, though they knew they could all trust each other with talking about it. Those who succumbed to battle fatigue, those whom Dugan was referencing… it was dangerous to succumb. There had been cases of men facing the firing squad if they succumbed.

But Toni… it was true. Dugan was right. There had been moments he'd looked into her eyes, or observed her from a distance… and there was something truly awful hounding her.

"Yeah," Steve murmured, looking down at his hands as he broke the silence that had followed Dugan's statement. "There's… something going on with her, and we only know so much. I'd like to help more, but…" He trailed off, then stood and walked slowly towards the table, not meeting anyone's eyes. They all watched him in silence as he grabbed bread, a chunk of cheese, an apple, and a paring knife, then turned back towards the fireplace. He didn't sit back down on the cot, however, and seemed frozen, staring down into the flames, his posture stiffening with every passing second. At least he was standing close enough that Bucky could reach his hand out and touch him if he needed to.

And he likely would need to. Bucky couldn't feel a damn thing from Steve's mind, from their bond, and though that wasn't unusual of late, in the war… it troubled him, still. When Steve blocked himself off, it wasn't always… good.

Scratch that—it almost never was with the punk. And he knew—he  _knew_ —that his nightmare from earlier had included  _both_  his soulmates, not just Toni, and Steve… Steve was trying to pretend like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't even been there. Always trying to protect Bucky from his own anguish, like the stubborn little punk he still was inside.

"Well, I suppose there's no sense beating around the bush. Care to tell me more about this… Toni? Antonia?" Peggy mused in that confident way she had—a way that said she wasn't backing down, and knew that she was prodding Steve. The woman was damn good at handling the punk where even Bucky failed.

"Toni," Steve replied, his shoulders finally relaxing. He turned around, and Bucky was pleased to see an openness to Steve's expression even though he was still closed off mentally. He sliced a piece of cheese off, the apple and bread tucked into his elbow, and moved to stand even closer to Bucky. Bucky transferred his items into one hand and then reached his arm out and wrapped it around the waist of his fella, drawing him in closer. They didn't need to hide around Peggy and Dum Dum, and Bucky was pleased to hear that Steve's voice was a little more relaxed as he replied, "She made it rather clear she disliked her full name," with a bit of a smirk before biting into the cheese and leaning more fully into Bucky's embrace.

"Duly noted," Peggy retorted dryly. She reached across the table and squeezed Dugan's elbow lightly before pulling back to sit upright in her chair once more—there was nothing they needed to hide in front of Steve and Bucky, either.

"What does Philips know?" Dugan, always perceptive, inquired.

Peggy shot a glance at the man, and then looked to Bucky, raising her eyebrows.

"We told him Toni's my soulmate," Bucky stated as he reached out and grabbed his own loaf of bread, cheese, and paring knife.

"But not Steve's." Dugan stated more than asked.

"Not Steve's, that's correct," Peggy confirmed, relaxing into the chair.

"So then what did he make of you kissing her hand last night, huh Steve?" Dugan teased. He eyed the food, then both Steve and Bucky, and deliberately moved his hands into his lap.

"Keeping Howard away from her," Steve mumbled.

Dugan caught the words anyway and looked like he was going to break into a fit of laughter. "You didn't really think that one through, didya?"

Steve colored—God, Bucky was so grateful that that hadn't been 'fixed' with the serum—and shook his head reluctantly. "Nope. Philips told me I was an idiot and said to keep my brain focused on battle tactics and not on relationship tactics. I think that was the closest to laughter I've ever seen him. I mean, she's my 'platonic' soulmate's soulmate, so I think that's the only reason he let it go, but…"

He raked a hand through his hair and then accepted the slice of apple Bucky passed him off of his knife with a smile. He took a bit and chewed for a moment before swallowing and continuing. "When Howard finds out she's Bucky's soulmate only, it won't be as good of protection as if she were mine, but we'll make do. Since she's, publicly, Bucky's, and Bucky's mine, we have societal privileges we wouldn't normally have. It'll all work out." He stated the last firmly, and caught Bucky's eye as he turned his head slightly to the side.

They'd make sure to keep an eye out for Howard's well-known… attentions… towards Toni.

"She didn't look at all comfortable with him—like she saw a ghost or something," Dugan added in what they were all thinking, from the encounter during the middle of the night after they deplaned.

"Yeah, exactly. But we'll make sure he knows she's mine," Bucky said, looking back towards the other two.

Peggy sighed and then sent a glare in Bucky's direction. "She's not anyone's,  _James_. She's her own woman, and you know it."

Steve sniggered, and Bucky rolled his eyes in his direction. The other man was facing them again, at least, Bucky was glad to see—even if he wanted to punch him in the arm at the moment.

"Yes, I know, Agent Carter," Bucky teased back.

A tiny uptick at the corner of her mouth was her only response before she moved the subject back to where she so obviously wanted it. "But she is both of yours soulmate, correct? Not yours, per se, but she does have your marks, and there was obviously a physical connection between all three of you, yes?"

They'd never had a reason to hide anything with Peggy, and it wasn't like they wanted to start.

"Yes," Dugan answered for them both.

Steve simply took a large bite of his apple and nodded.

Sigh. Well. It wasn't like it wasn't the truth, which Bucky had already been set on, anyway.

"Yes," he confirmed, then took a bite of his own apple.

"But you're only telling Philips that she's yours, James?" Peggy continued, unfazed.

"Yup." He popped the 'p' just to be obnoxious.

Peggy didn't even bat an eyelash even as Dugan smirked.

"First phase bond, correct?" she asked.

"Yes," Steve replied softly.

She didn't push beyond that, for which Bucky was exceedingly grateful. He shot her a relieved glance, though only after making sure Steve was looking down at his knife as he carved out another piece of cheese. They were going to have enough problems with them between the two—three—of them as it were. But…

"We're figuring it out," Bucky said, just as softly. It didn't hurt to let people know their limitations. People they could trust, at least.

"But for now…" Peggy began carefully, "you will have to decide what being her public soulmate will entail. We all know how the propaganda machine enjoys blowing things out of proportion. Steve and I will have to… continue what we are doing. It seems to amuse the masses well enough."

"What did you tell Philips about where we found her?" Dugan inquired.

"Bombed out house, rest of her group killed, member of some Italian-American resistance that was trying to cause trouble for the Germans. Bucky's mark appeared so you made your way over, had your rendezvous, and then she stuck to your side like glue since then. That about sum it up?" Peggy raised an eyebrow, and then smirked at Dugan's attempt to hold back his smile in response to her summation. "Now tell me the truth," she directed towards all three of them.

Bucky and Steve caught each other's eye, and Steve obviously caught on to Bucky's plea to say something, because he opened his mouth to reply. To fill in the gaps, deliver the truth. "Neither of us actually had any clue that new marks had appeared on us. It's been a while since… well, since we could really look." The tips of his ears turned pink, and damn, if that wasn't the cutest flippin' thing ever. Steve cleared his throat. "We saw a bright green and blue light near to where we were going to set up camp and decided to check it out before we called an actual halt. And then she was just… there, when the light disappeared. On the ground, us surrounding her, and she… she knew who we were. It was…" He grasped for the right word, trying to speak, but his voice broke and then he fell silent.

Bucky reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently as he took up the thread of the conversation. "It was freaky," he settled on. And it  _was_. More than just her knowing who they were. Having a third soulmate? A true triad? Even if everyone believed that he and Steve were still platonic, it was considered improper. Disrespectable. No… more than that. It was considered anathema to their society, even worse than inverts like he and Steve. Steve squeezed his hand, drawing him back, and Bucky looked at the sober faces of Peggy and Dugan, who he knew had followed his thoughts right along with him. "It was freaky," he repeated firmly. "And then we touched and that was when we knew." He fell silent, as if that was all that needed to be said. And perhaps it was, but one look from Peggy had him continuing again after a moment, admitting to everything; filling Peggy in on the most important piece of information they'd left out when speaking to Philips. "She said she's from the future, and, and…"

"You believe her?" Peggy asked, calm as can be, no telling how she felt about it.

"… Yeah." Steve said at the same time as Bucky released a breath and added in his own, "Yes."

Peggy looked towards Dugan and he shrugged before saying, "Woman knows things she shouldn't, and some things that make no sense, came out of a light that disappeared into the sky, and has a device trapped in her chest that looks like nothing I've ever seen—not even something Hydra could come up with, despite the blue color. She's years ahead of us, and I'd stake my name on that."

It was Dugan's words that seemed to settle it for Peggy, though Bucky knew she took Steve and Bucky's opinions to heart as well. "Okay," Peggy said with a shrug. "Well, we've seen strange things. Why not time travel?"

Wasn't much any of them could say in response to that. Wasn't much they could say to any of it, including the triad bond, so they didn't. They just moved right along. Bucky squeezed Steve's hand once more before dropping it.

"So what's to be done with her?" Dugan asked.

"I—" Steve started.

"Philips wants—" Bucky said at the same time.

They both paused and looked at each other before Steve smiled and nodded at Bucky to continue. "We're not really sure. I think Philips wants to meet with her in person before figuring out what to do with her. She proved herself an asset, we trust she's on our side, but there's not really anything positive in the record for allowing a soulmate—at least if it's a woman, sorry Peggy—to follow her partner into the field. Especially… well, especially with the sensitive ops we pull off. The info we need to know to complete them. It's… sensitive. Personally, and I agree with you, Dum Dum, I think she'd be an asset, and I know damn well that she won't just let us gallivant off without her… there's something…"

He looked at Steve, felt the faintest hint of jealousy coming through the otherwise locked-up bond, and then pulled himself back. "She's strong. Bull-headed. In a different way than you, Carter." He shot a smirk in her direction. "I… well, like I said, Philips wants to speak with her on his own." He finished lamely, hands spread out, only the knife and a bit of bread remaining.

"You'll have to go over the details with her before she goes to see Philips, and then make sure she tells you what she told him, so that none of you tell him something that contradicts whatever someone else told him." Peggy uncrossed and then crossed her ankles again, one foot bouncing slightly and the only sign of her slight agitation. But for her it was a fairly… large sign. Troubling.

They all fell quiet, and Steve and Bucky reached out and grabbed some more food from the table, chewing on it as they mused.

"Well, as long as she proves herself," Dugan finally added lamely. All they could do was nod. What more was there to say?

Lots, Bucky thought. But that was between Steve and him. Steve and him and Toni.

"So…" Dugan ventured into the silence that seemed to be getting more awkward the longer they stood there. "What's the next mission?"

Peggy seemed to jump happily into the opening granted to her. "I don't know much except it's a rescue op. The plans are still being worked on and I think there's one more report due, then Philips and I will finalize, and we'll call you in. Won't be more than a day or two until we get that report—but if we don't, we have other plans in place."

Steve straightened at the change of subject. "Where's the op planned for?" he half-asked, half-demanded.

"Belgium. Breendonk," Peggy answered, voice lowered as if that would make the horror of the place any less awful.

Bucky drew in a sharp breath. He couldn't help it. Because…

Breendonk.

Lord.

It wasn't Birkenau or Ravensbrück, but the fort in Belgium had a reputation that lived on a different plane entirely. So few that went in came out, and when they did, they were never the same. Bucky hadn't personally spoken to any survivors, but he knew that Peggy had, and the tales they had shared were… horrifying. Torture chambers and forced labor and beatings whenever one of the crueler SS-guards simply felt like it…

He didn't need to know more to feel sick to his stomach. He had always had an entirely too vivid imagination.

Suddenly, it was all Bucky could do to keep a straight face, to keep his breathing even, and his eyes open, but not too open because that would give him away. It would give away that all Bucky could picture in his mind's eye was the horror of Azzano. The cells, the frightened faces of men who never came back after they were hauled away, the slab that Bucky had been tied to, and the masked faces of the men who had bent over him in the darkness, holding him down even more so that the awful man—Zola, he'd found out his name later—could inject him with… with something.

Something that had changed him into who he was now. Something that… frightened him at times because he didn't recognize himself on the inside anymore.

Not fully. Not truly.

It was all he could do to grab another apple and the jar of milk from the table, and then turn and sit on the edge of the bed. It was all he could do to eat and drink methodically, giving his mind something to do, and a way to occupy his face so that nothing would come across.

But by the way that Steve opened up and pressed his mind right up against his, by the way Peggy squeezed his shoulder on her way out the door—he missed what she was leaving to go do, but was at least able to offer a smile and a soft "Goodbye"—and by the way that Steve sat at the table and engaged Dugan in conversation, distracting him from looking too hard or long at Bucky… he had failed.

He'd failed again.

Breendonk.

Azzano.

Fuck.

* * *

Toni was aware of those around her in the halls of the de facto S.S.R. headquarters in that way that people were aware of each other in the organized chaos of native New Yorkers in Times Square—meaning, she wasn't aware of anyone whatsoever and she simply operated on autopilot, swinging around faceless bodies, not even aware of if they were man or woman, as she made her way to the women's shower in the basement.

She'd run into Falsworth in the main hall of the dorm after she'd headed downstairs, and he had directed her towards the showers. Toni was still reeling from just… everything, and the sad, understanding little smile that had sat on his lips beneath the sweep of his moustache had been one raw, unvarnished, truthful emotion too many for her—piled on top of all the others of the morning, of the nightmare, of the previous night and the Howling Commandos' stories.

She knew that he knew. She knew they all knew, from the way they looked at her, at them, and the way that Dugan had brought her here, to their rooms, last night when she'd drank too much.

It was better to just… lock it up for now. If she could. So she'd smiled her best smile at Falsworth, wished him the best as he visited his wife and daughters—see, she could remember things about other people if she wanted to—and then meandered her way down to the showers.

She honestly didn't remember much of what happened in between that and when she slammed against the tile of the shower wall, naked, with both forearms and fists bracing her against the wall and providing privacy—along with the increasingly heavy curtain of her hair as it was saturated by the irregular and lukewarm spray from the shower head behind her.

There was no one in there with her. Not currently, at least, but anyone could come in at any time. She didn't care, but for now… for now, she needed peace. For now, she needed to be alone, even if it was for a split second before another woman walked in and started to strip, to wash, to dry, to leave.

Toni closed her eyes, shutting them tight and breathing, inhaling deep before she pressed her forehead against the tile, keeping her face out of the stream as best she could, and let the tepid water run over her back, run down, down, over her hips, her thighs, knees, calves, ankles, down the drain, gone,  _gone_ …

She was just so fucking  _tired_ already, and she was still trying to process everything Steve had said to her, everything that had been going on… It was hard. So  _hard_.

"I'm lost, J." Toni whispered the same three words she'd only said a handful of times over the years since she had breathed him into existence.

"I am not, miss—let me guide you."

And with those words, and with that voice, Toni pressed her cheek against the watch—waterproof like everything she made these days… those days, whatever—and let herself break into tears for the first time since she'd made her grand entrance—much like everything else she did in life—into the past, and into the lives of people with whom she had no idea where she belonged.

There was nothing controlled about her in that moment. Her shoulders were shaking violently, tears streaming down her cheeks and mixing with the water, sobs barely kept silent—only long practice kept them from getting loose—and her knees no longer supported her so she sunk to the cold, tiled bottom of the shower.

Her thoughts were no more organized. For all the power of her brain, when she reached this level of a breakdown, there was no way that she could follow any proper thought.

Except one—at least in that moment.

"J, I'm so glad you're here with me," she whispered over and over again, and she let his responses soothe her soul just enough that within a few moments her shaking, her tears, came to an end. She was able to breathe more regularly, but still took in a giant breath, letting it out slowly and shakily.

She repeated it until she could finally hear herself think.

Which wasn't… exactly a good thing.

There were so many things that Toni's mind could have latched onto, so many things she could have set herself to problem-solving… but instead Toni decided to focus on her soulmates.

More specifically on how much she longed for them, and the unfairness of it all. How she couldn't have them, but wanted them, and yet she should just let it lie… let it all lie and find herself someone else. Find her way back to the future, find herself someone that wanted her, and not… not two men who were about to die.

Two men who likely had  _zero_  interest in women, let alone Toni. She'd not seen anything to contradict her theory except for some fascination on the part of James—for her tech.

She was likely soulmated to two gay men, who had zero interest in her, and likely thought that she was here to try to poach their partner.

As if she would fucking  _ever_.

The visceral fear in Steve's eyes when he'd tried to explain why he'd acted the way he did wouldn't leave her alone, though.

She could see his fear that she was here to take away everything that he held dear. James. Bucky.

And…

And even if they did want her, even if they  _were_  interested in a triad after all… they were about to die. In less than two months. And there wasn't a damn fucking thing she could do about it. She knew that, for all they called her the futurist, you didn't fuck with the past in the hopes of making the future better.

But… but what was so wrong about saving Captain America and his soulmate, Sergeant James Barnes? They were  _heroes_ , and surely only good could come of making sure they  _lived_.

And then anger overtook her, bringing her in an entirely different direction. Even if she stayed here, she didn't have to just sit pretty and let those two decide her romantic—or sexual—future. Here she'd been, all set on helping them, acceding to what they decided was best… and what the fuck? Since when did Toni fucking Stark bow to the whims of anyone else, especially when they were making decisions that affected her personal life?

"What the hell was I thinking?" she murmured into the crook of her elbow.

"Was that a rhetorical question, miss?" J asked, with just a hint of teasing.

"I don't need your sass, boy," Toni grumbled, though she let a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Oh, how she'd longed to speak with him these last few days, but she just couldn't risk it…

"Of course not, miss. What do you need instead?" he asked. Always trying to please, her boy…

She grunted. "I don't have to be celibate if those two dumbasses don't want me! If I'm ' _platonic_ ' to them, then I can have a relationship without them, and they have no say! Fuck them! Yeah! ...ugh. Fuck them. I don't want them. I don't… Damn it."

She sighed.

But the fact of the matter was, she  _did_  want them. There was nothing about this soulbond that felt platonic to her. Nothing whatsoever. There was an unmistakable draw she felt towards them, and it was more than just looks. It was… everything. They were… they were her  _soulmates_ , and she felt it deep within her, that knowledge that they should be  _more_.

But…

"No, you certainly don't need their permission for that, miss," JARVIS replied consolingly. "But what, may I ask, will you do with them? Whether platonic or not, soulmates are brought into a person's life for some important reason or other. Or am I interpreting the literature incorrectly?"

Fuck.

What the fuck  _was_  she going to do? She needed to figure shit out, decide something, and seriously, most days she had problems deciding between Captain Crunch and Froot Loops for breakfast.

Some days she poured them both together and ate them that way and they tasted so good and she just bet that Bucky and Steve would taste delectable together because she knew there was no way in hell she'd be able to choose between—

"Oh my  _God_ …" Toni groaned as she smacked her forehead against the wall a couple of times a little harder than was probably good for her.

Of course her brain had gone down the sexual path.  _Again_. Couldn't she get her mind out of the fucking gutter and stop objectifying them? But… they were her soulmates.

No. Nope. Still shouldn't be doing that.

"Miss?" JARVIS inquired gently.

Toni paused to gather her haphazard thoughts into the appropriate—well, 'correct' was likely a much more accurate term, because there was no fucking thing appropriate about this—words and then answered in a soft grumble, used to baring all her secrets to JARVIS. "I can't let myself be like one of those fetishizing bitches who just want two men all for their own selfish viewing pleasure, J. I mean, they're smoking hot, and I'll admit to liking gay porn, okay, you caught me—but hell, you know my entire browsing history, you great big stalker—but I could never stand for… that. And I can't do that here. I can't fantasize about them if they don't want me, and even with whatever ruse they concoct to explain away my presence and our soulmarks, I've been given my marching orders, and I need to respect that."

Before she could continue, a voice intruded, just loud enough to be heard over the spray of the now-cold water. "Good."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! I've missed you all SO MUCH!!
> 
> Okay, so... I know I've been gone for a while on hiatus, but at least I was productive! I've posted three challenge fics in the interim (Stony: [Don't Fear the Proving](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14678979/chapters/33913917) / WinterIron: [Mend (Our Brokenness)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14815740) / Stucky: [What Remains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15085187)). I was also quite ill for a while there, and am still constantly dealing with my chronic pain issues, especially in my hands. So... thank you very much for being so patient with me.
> 
> This is a short little bridge chapter, but I went through a few rough things the last few days and wanted a bit of a pick-me-up as well as something that could act as a bit of motivation to make me write more! And I think that getting this back off the ground will provide me with a lot of motivation. :) I've already started in on chapter 10, but this was a good stopping point, so... yeah. :P I talk too much, I know.
> 
> My beta Annaelle is busy with school, so this is un-betaed. Don't blame her if there are mistakes or continuity errors! It's all on me.
> 
> I've also started another Stuckony fic -- a Pacific Rim fused with the MCU (superheroes and Kaiju and Jaegers? oh man!) which is already hella fun to write and I'm only in the middle of chapter 2. So... check it out if you like! It's over here: [99 Problems (But a Kaiju Ain't One)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15511467/chapters/36006150)
> 
> I hope you enjoy, small as this chapter may be!

_"Miss?" JARVIS inquired gently._

_Toni paused to gather her haphazard thoughts into the appropriate—well, 'correct' was likely a much more accurate term, because there was no fucking thing appropriate about this—words and then answered in a soft grumble, used to baring all her secrets to JARVIS. "I can't let myself be like one of those fetishizing bitches who just want two men all for their own selfish viewing pleasure, J. I mean, they're smoking hot, and I'll admit to liking gay porn, okay, you caught me—but hell, you know my entire browsing history, you great big stalker—but I could never stand for… that. And I can't do that here. I can't fantasize about them if they don't want me, and even with whatever ruse they concoct to explain away my presence and our soulmarks, I've been given my marching orders, and I need to respect that."_

_Before she could continue, a voice intruded, just loud enough to be heard over the spray of the now-cold water. "Good."_

Toni whirled around, practically falling on her ass in the process because one hand went to instinctively cover the arc reactor and the other one was held out in front of her, repulsor whining as it charged up, glove fully encasing her hand from watch to fingertips. She didn't have an extra arm to steady herself, but she was able to somehow maintain her footing and defensive stance on the wet floor without making a complete fool of herself.

"Well that's certainly something you don't see every day," her aunt—nope, not  _her_  aunt, not yet at least—remarked dryly from where she was leaning, arms crossed, against the door frame of the shower room. "Even these days," she added as if in afterthought.

Toni's brain stuttered to a rare halt. "Um," was all she seemed capable of uttering, even as her mind started to boot up again in blind panic. Peggy. Showers. Naked. Tech.

 _Tech_. Tech exposed in the  _past_. Paradoxes. Timelines. Fuck, oh  _fuck_.

She had heard Toni talking to JARVIS—and pretty much objectifying the soulmates who didn't want her, whom Peggy was fiercely protective of—she could see her arc reactor, and she had a repulsor pointed clearly and blatantly in her face.

All stuff which she'd hoped to keep as quiet and to herself as possible, and here she was pretty much hanging her laundry out for everyone and anyone to see.

_Goddammit._

Yet she couldn't quite get her body or her mind to cooperate. Not yet. She was still pointing her repulsor right at the woman who could make her life more difficult than anyone else in the past if Peggy set her mind to it, and yet she couldn't boot her brain properly back to life.

She was working on it, okay?

"So it's true then," Peggy continued, pushing herself away from the door frame with her shoulder and then walking slowly but confidently into the shower room with Toni. She didn't show an ounce of fear—that was Peggy for you, alright—at the piece of futuristic tech pointed at her. Even if Peggy knew exactly what the repulsor could do to her, Toni doubted that she would bat an eye in the face of it.

Especially not when wielded by some wet, naked, wild-looking woman in the shower.

Yeah, no.

Toni would have laughed if their positions were switched. Peggy was the epitome of Ms. Manners by comparison.

Toni lowered her hand, tapping her thumb, pinky, and ring finger together at the same time in order to force the weapon to retract back into the watch, brain finally giving her back an ounce of control. Even though Toni didn't really know  _this_  Peggy—weren't they the same? no?—she knew that the woman wouldn't be a threat towards her. Not unless  _she_  posed a threat to Peggy or those who were hers… such as Steve and James.

Well. Maybe she  _should_  have kept her guard up, because apparently all she  _was_  was a walking threat to the men meant to be her soulmates.

She should have kept up her physical guard, that is. Emotional? Mental? Psychological? All of those guards would be in full force, no matter who it was she was around. No matter if they were practically family, like Peggy, or her soulmates, she'd need to continue to keep her guard up at all times, never letting it lapse.

 _Especially_  around her soulmates.

She knew where she wasn't wanted. And as much as she had vowed to Steve… No,  _Rogers…_  that she would protect James… No matter  _that_ , she knew she would not be mourned if she disappeared without a goodbye. She was an added complication that everyone would be glad to be rid of.

So… how should she proceed? Obviously Peggy—Ms. Carter… yeah, that was a much better way to separate this woman from her aunt in her mind—had seen the watch, and obviously she already knew that she was from the future. No surprise there, and she had sort of figured it would happen eventually, anyway—even if she  _really_  didn't want it to. But what else did Ms. Carter know? Did she know about the whole… soulmate thing?

"Ms. Rhodes?" Peggy said archly, voice cutting right through Toni's thoughts—much like it had when she was younger… older…  _whatever_ , this was so fucking tiring,  _God_.

She was  _so done_  with all of this, honestly. She was tired and just wanted to go home, but there was a woman who needed answered before she could set her mind back to the problem, the solution, of getting home.

"Um," Toni couldn't help but stammer again, and Toni just wanted to facepalm at herself. God, Peggy had always been able to do that to her. She'd need to try better, do better,  _be_  better at this if she had any hope of surviving this until she could get  _home_. Whatever  _this_  was. "Hang on a moment, please." Couldn't hurt to be polite.

She'd  _totally_  forgotten that she'd given Rhodey's last name as her own when she'd first arrived. God _damn_  it, she needed to be more on point or she'd  _really_  fuck things up—and for more than just herself. There was so much  _shit_  riding on all of this, and the smallest thing could ruin her, ruin others…  _kill people_.

She couldn't do that. She had to be better. She  _had to_.

Peggy inclined her head and moved to one of the benches set between the lockers that were a few yards away. She crossed her ankles in that delicate English way she'd always had—strong as Ms. Carter was, she'd still always managed to pull off delicate, as well, in a way that Toni had never quite been able to emulate—and watched out of the corner of her eye as Toni wrung out her hair as best she could, quickly toweled herself off, and walked unashamedly naked towards her stack of clothes.

"I have some clothes you can wear, Ms. Rhodes," Peggy said before she could even lay an outstretched hand on the clothes in front of her. She turned, still naked, still unashamed, towards Peggy, who got back up and grabbed a sack from just outside of the doorway that she'd previously been standing in. She strode back in, eyes locked on Toni's, and handed her the bag, then sat back down in her previous position as Toni pulled the items out one at a time.

Well. She'd always  _loved_  Aunt Peggy's fashion sense, honestly, which had then went on to inform her own choices in fashion as she entered the public stage, even at a young age. Toni was actually rather excited at the thought of dressing in the clothes that Aunt Peggy—damn it,  _Ms. Carter—_ had chosen for her.

Toni smiled at what she saw as she set the items on the bench in front of her. Yes. It seemed that even in war Peggy dressed with practicality  _and_  style.

Well, except for the underwear. Toni wasn't sure there were  _any_  good kinds of underwear in this day and age.

Grimacing, she quickly pulled the beige panties and brassiere on. Next came something that was  _much_  more stylish—and practical, she was pleased to see. The dark grey pencil skirt was trimmed with black lace which covered panels acting as slits for better movement. For  _ass-kicking_ , more like it, while still managing to cover any potentially exposed thigh with the lace. Peggy—her Peggy, but of course that applied to the woman she had been in the past as well—had always been able to kick men's asses even while in dresses and skirts—or on one memorable occasion, in  _nothing at all_. That had really been something to see, and teenage Toni had taken that confidence and sheer  _badassery_  to heart.

She finished buttoning up the skirt with a small smile playing on her lips, and then reached down for the next item of clothing, relishing in the beautiful texture of the fabric beneath her fingertips.

"Aren't you going to say something about it?" Toni suddenly muttered confrontationally, mood changing swiftly, only realizing as she buttoned the red blouse up over the thick beige camisole—thick enough to hide the bright blue light—that Ms. Carter hadn't said a word about the arc reactor. She remembered clearly the other woman's eyes dipping briefly down to look at it when Toni had first spun around to face her, but after that Ms. Carter's eyes had remained above the chest. Out of politeness or what, Toni wasn't sure. Peggy had always been hard to read, much as her aunt had taught her to read others over her childhood.

"It's not my business unless I believe that it will pose a threat to myself or others—or even yourself, if I may add." Ms. Carter definitely wasn't asking.

"Finally, someone with some common courtesy," Toni grumbled as she flipped her wet hair out from under the collar of her blouse, grabbing the elastic she always kept on her wrist and quickly throwing her long hair up in a bun that would do for the moment; she didn't want to ruin the lines of the lovely jacket that Ms. Carter had loaned—given?—her with her mop of wet hair.

"Let me guess, one of the men demanded answers?" Peggy— _Ms. Carter_ —guessed with a wry tone. She definitely knew her friends, no doubt about that.

"Yeah," Toni answered shortly. "Gave me shit about it, too."

"Hm, how about another guess? A certain blond saw glowing blue and equated it with Hydra's weaponry?" Ms. Carter snorted—again, very delicately, damn the woman—and shook her head slightly. Before Toni could reply beyond a quirk of her lips, Ms. Carter continued. "I can see why they would, but putting together the facts that you assisted them during their mission at the Hydra base, and that you—apparently—are from the future… well, and adding in the fact that Mr. Barnes told me about your response to this exact topic, well, I'm not concerned. Not as of right now," she added with a hint of warning.

"Okay, fair enough," Toni said as she slipped the matching dark grey jacket on, leaving it unbuttoned but making sure that the camisole and blouse were tucked into the skirt properly. "I can't exactly say why I trust you, but I do to a certain extent. So, I may as well tell you that the device is for personal protection only. It's a… health device, in a way."

Ms. Carter's eyes dropped to the place where the arc reactor was concealed, looking like she was mulling over and weighing Toni's words. After another moment, Ms. Carter lifted a single shoulder in a slight shrug and moved her hand in a way that exhibited her acceptance of the words, closing the matter for the time being.

"So," Ms. Carter said, and her tone of voice changed to something more serious. She stood, and Toni shoved her ratty and dirty clothes that she'd previously been wearing into the sack before shoving her feet into the low heels that Ms. Carter had—remarkably—guessed the correct size for. She shoved the nylon stockings into the bag as well. She fucking  _hated_  nylons and would go ten times the distance out of her way to avoid the damn things. She didn't care if she'd get disapproving looks from the men and other women of this time period—it's not like she wasn't used to disapproving stares and comments.

"So?" Toni queried after a few moments too long of silence, standing up straight and picking up the sack to carry with her.

Ms. Carter ran her eyes from the bottoms of her feet to the top of her head and then nodded as if pleased before making her way towards the door. "Let's get some food in you and you can tell me about what I overheard. Something about  _fantasies_ , Ms. Rhodes?"

Toni choked just a little. She couldn't see Ms. Carter's face but she was sure that it would be carefully blank if she  _was_  able to see. She wasn't quite sure  _what_  to say, but it was an inevitability that they'd have to talk about at least some of these topics hanging over their heads at  _some_  point. So… may as well get it over with, right? "Do you have somewhere private we can chit-chat, Ms. Carter? I don't share my… predilections in public," she teased lightly in lieu of a proper, polite response.

Ms. Carter didn't need to know that that was pretty close to a lie, if not an outright one—depending on which journalist or tabloid you asked.

"Come," was all Ms. Carter said, but there was a hint of a smile in her voice.

And thank  _God_  for that.

She wasn't really sure what she would do if Peggy— _Ms. Carter_ , damn it, this was going to be hard—disliked her.

Well… she still had time to ruin that, like so many other things in her life.

Quickly composing herself for the outside world, Toni set herself to following the woman who was going to make—who  _had_   _already made_ —a huge impact on Toni's life and the formation of who she was.

In the future, Peggy was one of the most important people in Toni's life, and Toni was bound and determined to make sure Ms. Carter was at the very least an ally in the past as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, more from Toni and Peggy! And who knows who else may show up...? :D
> 
> I know this is short, but let me know what you think, and how you're doing! I've missed all of you so much! <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Happy Labor Day to all my American and Canadian friends!
> 
> Here's the continuation of the last chapter, wherein Peggy and Toni continue their little "chat". I really cannot _wait_ to get to some of these upcoming chapters (including some more kickass action)... hopefully I can produce them with regularity, alongside the chapters to my other Stuckony fic, [99 Problems](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15511467/chapters/36006150).
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta Annaelle who really kicked my butt on some parts of this chapter. You keep me in line, dear!
> 
> Oh! Also! There is some absolutely amazing artwork of Peggy and Toni talking last chapter, done by the wonderful Camiluna27. It can be found [here on their Tumblr](http://camiluna27.tumblr.com/post/177702352416/its-not-my-business-unless-i-believe-that-it)!
> 
> **I also just wanted to say... thank you _so much_ for such an amazing welcome back last chapter. Honestly, you all made me cry, but I promise it was in a good way! Every kudos and comment feeds my soul and makes me want to get back to you sooner than ever, but this time, after so long away... it was special. Thank you so much. I can't do any of this without you.**
> 
> **Love,  
>  Juulna**

Toni's determination not to screw up  _barely_  lasted three whole minutes. Her intentions were good, but her mind—her most prized asset—had devolved into a basic cat-and-mouse game, wherein the paradox that was now her life was the mouse and her mind trying—in vain—to understand it was the cat. The whole mess of thoughts were, naturally, incredibly distracting, and thus she missed most of Ms. Carter's explanations about the building and base they would be walking through.

She'd been cool as a fucking cucumber in the face of Ms. Carter's sudden entrance into her personal space—or, well, soon after, at the very least—but now here she was, letting her mind work itself up ridiculously quick, as it was wont to do, the more sensory input she took in. And there was a lot of it—pretty much all strange and foreign to her, in a way that was also surreally  _not_.

But no. Bad brain, bad.

And it all stemmed from the fact that she needed to figure out what the hell she was going to say to Peggy, to  _this_  Peggy Carter, and how to act around her.

She was already failing, letting her mind get completely swamped in these thoughts, but she needed to figure something out, and  _quick_ , before she  _really_  stuck her foot in her mouth. Both feet, knowing her.

Toni's mind was consumed with swirling thoughts born mostly out of her vast repertoire of science fiction novels, movies, and television series, most specifically those which dealt with time travel and/or paradoxes.

She'd started off with general, though rapid-fire, musings on the situation she found herself in, and what the science behind time paradoxes was, but had quickly worked herself up into a frantic grouping of questions—she was now in the stage that Maria Stark had so often resignedly called a 'tizzy'.

Should she keep her mouth shut? Should she tell them everything she knew? Should she act like she belonged in this time and knew nothing about what was to come? Was she even capable of doing that? Probably not. But what were her other options? Did she try to change what was to come? Did she try to keep things happening along their original paths? What parts did she change, what parts did she not? Was her presence here already a sign that things would work out differently than she'd learned of history? Did the fact that Steve and James were her soulmates mean that she was  _meant_  to change things… that things were going to be different?

She didn't know. She only knew that she wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut. So… so. Hm. She'd just have to do her best, use her brain, and figure out what was needed when and where and who deserved the truth and how much of it to give them.

If only she could gain some control of her thoughts, get them in order again, and feel a little  _calmer_. She felt like she was going to be carried away by the thoughts bombarding her, worse than most of her creative engineering binges that would leave her blinking awake days later.

Oh  _god_.

She wanted to smack her head into a wall, but instead she had to focus on pulling herself back and looking as outwardly normal as she could as she followed along in Ms. Carter's wake.

Still.

She didn't really know what else she could do except to do her best. She'd deal with everything as it came. But for now… she'd be as honest as she could be.

With whomever she could trust with the knowledge she had.

Obviously the universe had sent her back in time for a purpose—it should know  _damn well_  that she would run with it and not sit idly by with the knowledge tucked away forever inside her brain.

She needed to lose this…  _timidity_ —completely unacceptable for a Stark—and assert herself more, rather than simply following, letting others make decisions for her and her current lot in life. She needed to  _tell_  them what she wanted, what she needed, what she was  _going_  to do, and convince them that she was a worthy ally… not simply an obedient soldierwho should be relegated to simple soulmate status, and an unwanted one at that.

She would be  _more_  than that. She would make sure of it, but in a way that still allowed her to support said two men, the Commandos, Ms. Carter, and the S.S.R. as best she could.

She could do it.

She  _would_.

And if they rejected all that, she'd say fuck'em, and go on her merry way and figure things out on her own. Like she always had.

But for now, she could work within the opportunities she had. Make some where there weren't any. Perhaps she could ask for some metal and tools, whatever level of technology she could get her hands on and make it into something better. She could definitely help that way. She would feel  _useful_  again and could—

"You probably haven't had a proper meal since you've arrived, if I'm not mistaken," Peggy said, voice breaking into her internal monologue and forcing Toni to pay attention—Ms. Carter obviously held that power, no matter her age, when she used that tone of voice.

"No ma'am," Toni replied, politely and firmly. Yes, that's what she was going for, firm. She could do that. Firm and polite and figuring out what the fuck she was going to do next. What the fuck she was going to tell this woman in the conversation to come.

She may feel completely wrong-footed but she was going to do her damnedest to feel stable and back on course and in  _control of her_   _life_  once again—as in control as one could get when they'd been  _sent back in time_  by  _who the fuck knew_  for  _whatever the fuck reason_.

Ugh.

She felt like a total idiot and probably looked one, too.

Nothing like the cool, level-headed businesswoman who took the world by storm—never mind being a fucking  _superhero_ —she was supposed to be to the outside world.

Toni shook her head, clearing her mind enough to focus on the outside world, and watched with now-keen and observant eyes as Ms. Carter stopped by the kitchen, speaking briefly and friendlily with one of the staff, who then handed her a small basket that was set to the side, a piece of plain cotton folded over the top of the contents.

Now that she was actually  _paying attention_  like she should have been all along, it was nearly impossible to miss the way that the servicemen and women were looking at her: curiosity mixed with a hint of healthy suspicion—in no way did she blame them—and the age-defying look of a bored group of usually very active individuals panting after the latest bit of gossip and rumor and scandal.

She knew that look  _very_  well. She was not remotely a stranger to it being directed her way. And she wasn't exactly surprised at having it directed her way  _here_ , in this time, either. She'd been hanging out with the Howlies in the bar last night, and now here she was in the company of the mysterious and highly-competent Agent Carter. Of  _course_  they were curious, and they were entirely right to sense gossip.

But there was one look she couldn't quite place…

"It's your mark, Ms. Rhodes," came Ms. Carter's voice, cutting into her musing—and there she went  _again_ , getting lost in her brain. Though that was no surprise, either; not for her. "In case you were wondering," the woman added.

"I was," Toni admitted, shooting a small, wry smile in Ms. Carter's direction. "I forgot that back… now. That  _currently_  it isn't something shown in public very often. That it's rather private."

Ms. Carter raised one eyebrow as they walked outside, and that eyebrow had always  _done things_  to Toni's younger self, so she took a moment to reply before giving in to the urge to look at her surroundings in the light of day. She lowered her voice just a little, even though there was no one around them—at least that she could see. "So in… about thirty years from now, through to my present day, a big revolution in the way society views and handles soulmarks and soulmates happens.  _Is_  happening. Will. Whatever." She ignored Ms. Carter's smirk.

"There's a  _lot_  of history in that, and some of it I don't even know how to explain without wracking my brain and going on for hours and hours filling even a smart lady like you in on all the necessary background. I just…  _know,_  since I lived it. It's hard to explain easily. But suffice to say, showing your mark, whether mated or not, or 'complicated'—" Toni made air quotes before she even realized the other woman might not recognize the gesture, but carried on anyway, "—is completely acceptable in my time, so I thought nothing of it."

Peggy— _damn it_ —looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging and hitching the basket a little more securely in the bend of her elbow and moving on again. "Please, it's quite alright. No need to wear your hair down. There are many…  _proclivities_  we tend to turn a blind eye to around here. It is, after all, wartime, and we all deal with its gruesome effects in a different way. No one here will judge you for straying from society's established norms…. Of course, to the greater public, we cannot operate with the same manner of transparency. Especially with figures that sit permanently in the spotlight."

Toni knew  _exactly_  what she was referring to. Steve. Captain America. Captain America and his British lady-love, Peggy Carter. His fucking  _beard_.

But the amusement of the same thought as she'd had last night was muted in the face of the reality of her situation. She was an outsider in more than just a personal manner.

She was an outsider on an  _international_  scale.

"Set that thought aside for now, Ms. Rhodes. There are more important things to discuss. For the moment, at least. Sit down and eat, and we can talk."

It was only then that Toni realized she hadn't been looking where she was going in the least. She took a moment to gaze out upon her surroundings, turning in a circle to take it all in.

The S.S.R. base—what she could see of it, at least, from where she stood—was nestled beside a small hill adjacent to an even tinier town. She knew they were near London, but couldn't really see any signs of larger, urban life from here. Which made sense, considering that it was a military base, honestly. The base obviously continued up the hill, if the military vehicles and personnel were any indication, what had to be offices and labs likely converted out of appropriated homes and businesses—the command center was likely up there as well.

Surrounding her and Ms. Carter were barracks and mess halls as well as wide open training grounds and long, clear gun ranges with what looked to be a wide variety of moveable targets and obstacles. The warehouses, hangars, and the landing strip they'd arrived on last night must be just out of sight around the bend of the hill, though, since it was nowhere in sight on this side.

The whole base was in relatively good condition, especially considering that much of London had yet to recover this well from The Blitz which had occurred, what… two and a half years earlier? Two and a half to three years ago, yes. They'd obviously not been hit very hard here, or they had recovered well in the years since, probably as a result of being one of the top priorities of the British government. A few of the people walking across the base glanced her and Ms. Carter's way, but most of them minded their business and left them to their own in the slightly out of the way location Ms. Carter had brought them to. It was out of the way in that it was near few buildings, but it was on a small rise overlooking a ground combat training… paddock. Hah, it was repurposed from an old horse paddock, Toni realized with a small chuckle.

Her chuckle died  _right out_  when she saw who was in said paddock, horsing around like care-free children under the guise of practicing hand-to-hand, it would seem.

It was the first time she'd really gotten to look at Steve and James…  _Bucky_ , without them knowing—even subconsciously—that she was looking, and it was… it was pretty breathtaking. There was a sense of familiarity to their movements that Toni  _ached_  to experience—it was something she'd never had, and wanted  _desperately_. They were laughing, swiping at each other playfully while the others hooted and hollered at them, and Toni could  _see_  it. She could see how they loved each other, how they made such a formidable team. They were a family. A family Toni  _wasn't_  a part of. She glanced towards Peggy, catching the same fond smile on the woman's lips as she watched the Howlies that she undoubtedly sported herself. She wasn't a part of the family, but… she could be. She  _could_ , even if not in the way she truly ached for. It was within her reach. All she had to do… all she had to do was—

Toni didn't know.

She froze just that little bit further, wondering why she hadn't felt them on approach, before realizing she'd been too distracted, and then too engaged, and that the small bundle of…  _them_  in the back of her mind was… diminished. Just enough she had to focus to feel anything from it, and even then the feelings coming from out of the bond were slight.

Happiness. Joy. Love for life and for each other.

It was… nice, the little bit that she could feel.

Toni wasn't too worried, though, even if it unsettled—and  _relieved_ —her a little. She'd read countless essays and research papers detailing the state a bond would fall into between the first skin-to-skin contact between soulmates and the final completion of the bond. It was  _normal_  for the bond to become muted and fallow, in a way, after the first few days, so that it did not overwhelm those who were first starting to come to know each other. Over time, and with repeated physical contact, it would grow in strength, until it was fully realized between said soulmates.

It was a survival mechanism, of a sort. And one she was glad for, at least in this case.

Toni refused to think of all the research she had read on the topic of what happened to bonds which were  _never_  completed, or which were forcefully severed by one or more of the persons involved. Or even the rare few— _very rare_ , god rest their souls—who had their bonds severed from sources beyond their control. She refused to think of severed or unrealized bonds, even though she knew damn well she'd end up as one of them.

She was goddamn  _Iron Man—_ she  _would_  survive this, and in the manner of  _her_  choosing.

She'd fucking go down fighting, if that's what it took.

With a resounding sigh and an instinctive tightening of mental muscles she barely knew how to use, Toni flopped herself right down onto the grass of the small incline, barely giving a crap about the nice things she was wearing—they were serviceable and they were Peggy's, so that meant they could take a beating. And they  _would_ , knowing who was wearing them.

Deliberately looking away from the happy, hollering group of men down below, Toni turned to face Ms. Carter, a neutral expression carefully cultivated over her features.

All she was greeted with was a neutral expression to match.

Damn it, you could never beat the one who taught you a look.

With another sigh, Toni rolled her eyes, letting her features relax into their natural state. "Yeah, yeah, fine. Acceptable. Let's just eat. I'm  _starving_." She made gimme hands at the basket, and Ms. Carter moved it with a smile to where it could be easily reached by the two of them, sitting on one hip each in rather matching positions, wearing much the same style of clothes—though hers were casual dress compared to Peggy's—damn it,  _Ms. Carter's_ —military threads.

"Can I call you Peggy, at least just in my head, instead of Ms. Carter? It's driving five year old me  _nuts_ ," Toni blurted out without even thinking about it.

Oh, for  _fuck's_  sake.

She'd  _just_  told herself that she was going to separate the two women in her mind, and here she fucking went and did… this. Argh. But really, it  _was_  driving her nuts, constantly flip-flopping between the two names. This woman was the  _same_  woman. No need to really treat her  _that_  differently. No need to keep her distance.

"Ah, I was almost certain that you knew me, but that pretty much confirms it," Peggy said after a silent, startled moment.

Toni  _literally_  face-palmed. She'd never done so in her life, but now… well, the situation warranted it. She also groaned.  _Loudly_. Loud enough she was sure that the supersoldier only a hundred or so yards away from her could hear her.

She looked— _yup_.

The whole lot of them were turning their heads towards them, following Steve's example. She couldn't see their expressions at this distance, but she wasn't exactly sure she wanted to.

She really just  _could not deal_  right now. Not with them. Either of them.

 _Any_  of them.

Completely ignoring the men yet again by looking back at Ms. Carter, Toni couldn't help but to join in and laugh along with the woman who'd started chuckling at the idiot in front of her.

Toni. Toni was the idiot.

But laughing made her feel better, more comfortable, and she could feel herself pulling in the tendrils of thought which had still been going in all sorts of manic directions, and felt herself calming right down. Felt herself settling more comfortably into her mind and body and the position she was in, both physically and logistically.

The cat was out of the bag, so to speak.

"Yeah, okay, I'm okay. Alright," she said as her laughter trailed off. "I feel better now, geez. Thanks." She smiled at the brunette, who smiled right back—albeit a little more reservedly—and dug into the basket between them, grabbing a few crumbled pieces of cheese and bread wrapped in a cloth and placing it all onto her lap. She pretended not to notice the canteen being offered to her by Ms. Carter—for all their similarities, this woman was an unknown to her comparatively—until the woman placed it on the ground by Toni's knees. She waited until she'd had a few bites of food so as not to seem rude, and then reached for the canteen as if she hadn't noticed it being offered to her a few moments ago.

By unspoken accord, they settled into eating and drinking a rather robust amount of food for wartime, leaving the questions and answers for after their stomachs were settled.

It was remarkably… nice. Amicable. Quiet, or close enough, with most of the base's sounds relegated to the distance.

Finally, she'd eaten her fill, and decided she really did need to respond to Peggy's assertion.

Toni weighed her next words carefully. Finally, she decided on something that Aunt Peggy had taught her as a young girl, soon after her first kidnapping… one where Peggy herself had done all the rescuing, and not her damn parents.

It was the best way she knew to get Peggy to trust her—or at least to give her the benefit of the doubt. And she  _needed_  her to, if she wanted her life to go smoothly here, if she wanted to be  _believed_.

"When you were young, you and Michael—" Peggy froze at the mention of her deceased brother, "—came up with phrases you used with each other for certain situations. You closely guarded these code words and phrases, to the point that only you, him, I'm guessing the Commandos, and eventually myself, were the only ones who knew that they even existed, let alone that you used them. You took words designed as harmless aspects of your youth and turned them into lifesaving mechanisms. And yes, one of those lives your code saved was my own, more than once as I was growing up. Even as an adult, your code remained a standard part of our conversations. Yeah, I  _do_  know you. Even in 2009, I know you. I've known you for a  _long_  time, Ms. … Peggy. 'Great-Aunt Millicent has come for supper, and mother wants us to come inside.' That phrase right there? You taught it to me after I was kidnapped the very first time as a three year old."

Peggy's eyes were wide. It was the most shocked Toni had  _ever_  seen the woman… whatever time they may be in.

Toni continued before Peggy could interrupt. "And let me tell you, when you're three—and you're  _me_ —you remember a lesson like that, and anything that could even remotely be used to prevent another one just like that from occurring. It didn't prevent me from getting kidnapped again, not every time, but it stopped at least three more, including the very next one after that first. That first kidnapping which  _you yourself saved me from_. You see, Peggy, you were,  _are_  an important part of my life… an  _integral_  part of my life, and I know you.

"I know that's not the same as knowing the person you are now, and you don't have the luxury of knowing me the same way, not like the three decades of knowledge I have of you… but I need an ally, for whatever the hell that is to come for me, for them, for  _us_ , and I know that means that I need to be honest with you, at the very least. That I need to tell you what you need to know, as best I can, and do it in advance instead of waiting to be asked questions. Questions that might come too late."

Toni ran a hand over her hair in attempt to steady her nerves, but it seemed like she only succeeded in making her still-damp hair even messier in its bun, curls frizzing out every which way. She took a deep breath instead, letting it out slowly before continuing, taking advantage of the silence that Peggy was giving her… no matter how disconcerting it may be, no matter what that silence may hide.

"I'll tell you about my tech, about the voice you heard me speaking to, about the war, about the future… about how I feel about this whole soulmate thing and what I plan to do—or  _not_  do—with Steve and Bucky. I trust you, or at least I trust one version of you, but I  _know_  you're still the same. The question is whether  _you_  can trust  _me._ But I know that won't come right away, even with me knowing your code. Because I know what you're thinking: that they could be common knowledge in the future. That I somehow figured it out in some nefarious manner and that I'm using it to gain your trust for  _further_  nefarious purpose. Entirely possible. But… the universe wouldn't make me  _theirs_  if I didn't somehow match their version of right and wrong… would it?"

Toni desperately wanted to believe that.

"I… I'm overcomplicating things. And blathering. I do that a  _lot_. I really need to let you get a word in edgewise here…" Toni trailed off in a mumble, looking briefly to the side, away from Peggy's keen, piercing gaze, before changing track and meeting the woman's dark brown eyes again.

Peggy finally decided to reply, thankfully saving Toni from speaking again and likely botching the whole thing if she hadn't already. "You must be more important than we imagined," she said, voice trailing off slightly as though she were lost in thought. She probably was, though her expression hid it rather well, gaze perusing Toni as she sat right there in front of her.

"I wouldn't say  _that._ " Toni chuckled darkly. Important in her own time? Sure. But here? "No. Just… well-informed. Well-connected. And okay, fine,  _smart_  and knowledgeable and uh… well." She trailed off. "My father was connected with the S.S.R. So I know some things. That's how I met you and you became such a big part of my life."

Peggy's expression went rather blank as she asked, slowly, as if weighing her words carefully, "Is your father one of the Commandos?"

Toni just stared at her for a moment before bursting into laughter. "No! God,  _no_!" She couldn't contain her laughter at the thought. "Oh god, no, that would just be… weird.  _So weird_."

Peggy's features relaxed into a smile and she joined in with Toni in her laughter, a feeling of good-humor falling over them. "Yes… yes, that would be rather odd for you, wouldn't it?" Peggy added finally, sobering up. Then she caught sight of the expression on Toni's face. It was there for  _just_  a moment, Toni swore, but of course Peggy saw it. "Your father is here currently, isn't he?"

Toni dragged her right hand down her face even as her left hand came up and tapped against the glass of her arc reactor through her blouse. "Yeah, yeah he is," she mumbled through the hand hiding her face.

Silence.

"I'm sorry. That must be… odd," Peggy finally said. Toni couldn't really tell what Peggy was thinking, especially with her hand over her eyes, but she was sure that even if she  _was_  looking, she probably wouldn't be able to tell anyway. "I couldn't imagine."

"Yup," she mumbled yet again through her hand, proving to Pepper exactly how rude she could be. "But I'm trying not to think about it. Hopefully I'll not encounter him much." Yeah  _right_ , Toni thought sarcastically.

"If there's anything I can do to help in that regard, you have but to ask. I'll do what I can," Peggy offered.

"Thanks," Toni replied, though she knew there was probably nothing much Peggy could do. But maybe, if the need arose… Well, it was good to keep her options open.

"Ms. Rhodes…" Peggy started.

"Please, call me Toni," she interrupted, finally removing her hand from off of her face and dropping it to her lap. She spread her other hand out across the glass of the reactor, grounding herself in the feel of the edges pressing into her palm. "At least when it's appropriate," Toni added, remembering where and  _when_  they were.

Peggy inclined her head, and then continued, leaning back with one hand pressed into the grass beside her. "Toni," she said. "You and I, we have plenty to speak about, but it can wait. Or, at least, be combined with other things. This is all rather unusual, even for the S.S.R. and the Commandos, but so far we have no cause to be overly suspicious of you or to think you untrustworthy. While you have yet to prove exactly who you are, we're not going to simply lock you up because we don't know you. We'll treat you with respect as long as you give us no cause to do otherwise, and don't betray our trust.

"And while, yes, you might have found out about mine and…" she gulped, "Michael's code in some other way, I don't really think that's the case. For whatever reason, I believe that you and I  _do_  know each other. Or, at least, you know the woman that I'll become. The way you look at me, the way you look at them, at all of us, and the way you handle yourself… I don't know if it's the right thing to do, but it's worth a try to see what you have to say. I can't say we won't be watching…" Toni nodded in acceptance, "but I can say that we're willing to see how things go.

"Colonel Philips, he'll want to speak with you. He's already asked to, but I told him he could wait at least a day, and that you deserved some rest for part of today at least, before we inundate you with our questions. You looked dead on your feet last night and not too much better today, though the shower was a boon."

Toni raised one eyebrow, but didn't deny it. Peggy smirked. "So, tomorrow you're going to have a conversation with the colonel, and I suggest you tell him the truth about who you are and where you come from. Because the boys certainly didn't last night. They were rather mum on the subject and gave some outright lies where they could, though later on they told me as much of the truth as they know."

Toni rolled her eyes at that. "Of course they did. It's not like they really talked to me about what I wanted to do or say, though I can't exactly blame them. We're not… uh, on the best of terms right now." She winced, just the barest bit, but Peggy caught it easily.

And that, right there, the hint of pity in the otherwise level look that Peggy gave her at that, was exactly why she didn't want to talk about any of this soulmate stuff. But… it also felt a little  _freeing_  to be able to say it out loud to someone who Toni  _knew_  would have compassion for her. The small hint of pity was the most she would get from this strong woman who would become her godmother. Everything else would be practicality and strength and understanding; an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on before she was helped back into a semblance of shape with a side of 'stiff upper lip' and help in carrying herself forward and standing on her own two feet again like the women in men's worlds that they were.

"Well, let's get you settled in my room for a touch so you can rest without being disturbed," Peggy offered as she stood and started gathering everything back into the basket. "I'll see that you get some more clothes to wear—and more  _practical_  ones, which I'm sure you'd probably prefer—and some gear, along with a sidearm, so that you won't feel so… open, around here."

God, her godmother could read her too well, no matter her age, and the trust that was implicit in the offer of a  _weapon_ …

"I won't betray your trust. Thank you, ma'am," Toni said, staunchly blinking back a rise of hot tears and hiding them behind basic courtesy.

"I know you won't," Peggy replied gently, though her eyes glinted hard and dangerous with a rather explicit threat. "And you may call me Peggy, like you asked… Toni," she added as she turned and started down the hill. "Though we have  _much_  to discuss!"

Toni smiled and followed after the woman, feeling calm and a little more in control of everything going on around her. She knew it wouldn't last, but she would revel in it while it lasted.

"Let's get you rested so that you're ready for dinner. Can't have you be late," Peggy called over her shoulder.

"Why?" Toni asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Why, your date with Mr. Barnes, of course," came the rather impish reply as Peggy's legs carried her quickly away.

Toni stared after her for a moment before groaning and hurrying to catch up.

Nope, Peggy had never been a coddler. So much for that hint of pity and that feeling of control.

Short-lived, the lot of it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had like... a really shitty week/weekend, and then I sat on this chapter for a few extra days trying to make it perfect. And it's good! It's as good as I can make it, and I definitely put the beta (my lovely Annaelle) through the wringer! But I still feel sort of self-conscious about this, though that could just be the shit week talking. So.... yeah, figured if I sat on it any longer it wasn't going to ever be released. Much better releasing it, I would say. :P
> 
> Anyway, my apologies if it's sorta boring? All this talking and interpersonal stuff is so necessary but can be so boring, ohmigosh! Maybe that's just me, though, being biased and too close to all this to properly judge it. I just want to get to the parts where there's lots of shooting and blowing up Hydra bases together again. Because that stuff is FUN!
> 
> Alrighty, well, I do hope you enjoy this! Please feed the beast that is the author inside of me. She does so love comments and kudos if you like what you read! 
> 
> Up next... Bucky vs Toni. Heck yeah!
> 
> Er, yeah, and I'm sorry about the cliffhanger, hahahaaha (not). *is terrible but loves all of you*

Bucky watched as Steve pouted at his feet, sitting cross-legged on their bed, hunched in on himself like he was still five foot nothing. "Come on, babydoll," he cajoled, dropping down on the bed beside Steve, slinging an arm around those broad,  _broad_  shoulders to drag his stubborn little punk closer. "You pretendin' I'm going off to war again. I'm just taking our ritzy Sheba to dinner."

"And you ain't lettin' me come," Steve pouted. Bucky rolled his eyes and smacked a kiss to Steve's cheek. "'Cause you two keep hissing at each other like alley cats. You gotta learn to play nice, Rogers."

Steve let out a gusty sigh, his whole body slumping as he leaned his not-inconsiderable weight against Bucky's front, tucking his head up and under Bucky's chin. "Yeah, yeah, I know, Buck. I know. I just don' like it," he muttered against the skin of Bucky's throat.

"I know, doll," Bucky murmured back, rubbing one hand up and down Steve's back, and the other carding through his hair—it was starting to get a little long; just the way Bucky liked it. The perfect length to comb through and tug and hold onto… "I'm pretty sure she got nothin' to like about it either."

"Oh, you're  _quite_  right, James Buchanan Barnes. She  _doesn't_ ," Peggy said as strode into their room as though she owned it, closely followed by Dum Dum and his sharp gaze, as per usual. The words were ominous, combative, but her tone was still composed mostly of warmth that could be read between the clipped and curt way she spoke.

Bucky and Steve twisted around just enough so that they were able to look at the pair, but beyond that they didn't move, nor did they tense. They'd both heard them coming down the hall towards their room, and knew it was them on account of their voices. Neither of them needed to move; it wasn't the worst position—by far—which they'd been caught in, especially by these two.

Bucky frowned at Peg and wrinkled his nose. "Watcha full-namin' me for? What did I do?"

Steve peeked his head out at their newly arrived visitors and Bucky could practically  _feel_  the glower sent their way. "What would you know?" he muttered crankily, burrowing deeper into Bucky's side when Peggy simply raised her eyebrow at him.

Bucky sighed. This wasn't going to end well.

"Well,  _Steven_ ," Peggy emphasized, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back on one heel. "Considering you and I have been play-acting to be the picture-perfect soulmate couple, depriving us from the opportunity to truly join with those we love…"

Bucky didn't miss the way her gaze strayed to Dum Dum, who must've trailed his fingers down her back when the tension in her shoulders loosened a little. "I can at least  _relate_  to what she must be experiencing," Peggy continued, eyes hard and filled with emotion so  _deep_  and  _intense_ , Bucky almost  _felt_  it, despite the distinct lack of a mental bond between them. " _Lord_  knows you two are so tightly wound up in each other you forget she  _craves_  that same connection. Right now, you are  _all_  that she has, Steve..." She flicked up her gaze to meet Bucky's, and his breath caught in his throat at the gentle but stern look in it. "Bucky."

To his shame, he looked away as soon as he could manage, drawing his lower lip between his teeth.

He knew that. He knew that he and Steve got caught up in their bond—it was one of the symptoms of having been bonded as long as the two of them had been.

"She's out of time, darlings," Peggy said kindly, softly, and her hand was equally soft when she laid it on Bucky's. "Quite literally. She can't be with you both, because quite clearly neither of you have an iota of interest in her, not the way she would  _clearly_  like you to have, and now she has to  _tip toe_  around you to avoid pissing you off— _especially_ you, Steven."

Steve, to his credit, at least looked a  _little_  contrite.

They all remained silent for a long, drawn-out moment before Peggy sighed. "Come on then, Steven. You and I have a  _riveting_  evening planned, ourselves. Colonel Philips has decided it is high time you gain further knowledge on amphibious assaults. We believe we have actionable intel for your next mission for which this lesson could be of use."

She paused to breathe, but before Steve could do so much as open his mouth, she held up her hand and gave him a halfhearted glare—which was still pretty terrifying by normal-people-standards, Bucky thought—and said, "And yes, before you accuse me of it, I am  _absolutely_  getting you out of Bucky's hair so that he can treat our delightful Ms. Rhodes with the kindness she deserves."

And with that, Peggy goddamn Carter swept out of the room without a single backward glance, leaving Dugan to awkwardly tip his hat and them and depart in her wake.

_The Queen, ladies and gents,_  Bucky thought, a little hysterically, torn between being impressed and feeling completely steamrolled.

Steve twisted around in Bucky's embrace, but before Steve could get a word out, Bucky captured his lips in a deep kiss. He threw every ounce of his love into it, using both body and bond, willing Steve to realize that Steve was  _his_ , that he was  _Steve's_ , and that he would  _never_ ,  _ever_  stray from him. That he would be loyal until the very end. That they were in this  _together_.

"Yeah," Steve said breathlessly as Bucky finally pulled back. "Yeah, okay. Go. I trust you. You know I do. Ain't got nothing to show otherwise, Buck." He gave Bucky a smile that was most of the way to confident. "And you're right, I do need to do better 'round her. We're all she's got." He grimaced, looking both sad and angry for a moment. "I'll try," he finished with.

"I know you will, Stevie," Bucky murmured before pressing his lips chastely but firmly against Steve's once more. Then he pushed his great big punk off of his lap and right onto the floor, laughing at the expression of betrayal on the big lug's face.

"Go on, get. I promise I'll be home by nine."

* * *

Bucky knocked on the door right on the stroke of six, the loud sound of the banged up, reclaimed, and triple-fixed grandfather clock in the common room downstairs resounding throughout the building.

Philips had put Toni up in the boarding houses assigned to the female soldiers and nurses on the base, in the room next to Peggy's—one of three rooms on the top floor of the house, and one that was often empty, used mostly for guests.

Somehow, he did not think it likely that the placement was an accident.

A loud stomp, followed by a muffled string of  _impressive_  swear words greeted his knock, and Bucky couldn't help but smile. He'd met his fair share of impressive dames—had shown probably more than his fair share of them a good night out before going home to Steve—but none of them had ever quite showed the fire that Toni did.

It reminded him, oddly, of Peggy.

His smirk wanted to slide right off his face as soon as the door was yanked open and he got a good look at the glare aimed in his direction. It was an act of willpower on his end keeping it in place, though he softened it just enough so that his ritzy Sheba wouldn't think he was laughing at her.

No dice. The glare seemed to deepen into a glower, and Toni crossed her arms over her chest before tapping her foot—likely not even aware she was doing it.

"Can we just  _not_  do this?" Toni demanded, but Bucky sensed the desperate plea beneath her bluster, and Peggy's earlier words echoed in his head. .

"Oh, come on now, doll," he wheedled, leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb as he shot her his most charming smile—careful to keep it honest. He could already tell she was perceptive and  _blunt_ , and would never ever appreciate deception, no matter if it was kinder. "You're gonna break a fella's heart." He could tell she wanted to smile—her lips twitched just a little before she could stop herself—and he grinned back helplessly.

"As long as my name isn't Rogers," Toni replied sassily, raising an eyebrow at him, "I doubt I'd be able to achieve any actual heartbreaking."

The words hit him a lot harder than she intended them, likely, and his smile slipped right off his face. "Now don't say that," he said, pushing whatever positive feelings he could gather towards the tiny string of light that was his connection to her. "You must know you mean a great deal to me already."

"Do I?" she replied dryly, raising a single eyebrow at him. "Let's be real here. You and I both know this isn't going to go anywhere," she said flatly, gesturing at the space between their bodies with a dismissive gesture. "Fate may have brought us together but it doesn't mean we have to follow its dictates. Where I come from, plenty of people don't allow the whole soulmate thing to rule their lives. And we already know what your side of all this is, what with," she made a vague gesture he instinctively knew meant Steve, "all that, so why are we even bothering?"

Her glare was starting to look a little distressed on the edges, and Bucky could tell the mask she wore to protect herself was slipping, and that she was feeling increasingly vulnerable and was  _not_  happy about it. He just wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms and tell her it was going to  _be okay_ , but he couldn't.

Well, he  _could_ … but he couldn't, just the same.

He'd never felt so caught between a rock and a hard place.

He understood. He understood the desperation in her eyes and he could read the fear of getting hurt too.

_Lord_ , he didn't want to hurt her. For better or for worse, she was his soulmate—his and Stevie's—and they needed to find a way to make this work.

Whatever that meant.

"Let's just… Let me take you to dinner, okay?" He reached out and carefully placed his hand on her cloth-covered forearm—he could feel the tension thrumming through her, between them, but thankfully she didn't draw away. Instead, she just watched him closely, carefully; her gaze assessing. "No expectations, no strings," he continued. "I know we kinda got pushed into doing this with the whole public eye thing…" He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry they didn't talk to you about it. I wasn't even really consulted about it. It all just sorta… happened. Tumbled along before I could even give my two cents' worth, y'know? I mean… It follows Stevie around these days, sticks to all of us, this whole tangled mess, but that don't mean we gotta let it define everything we do."

He nearly laughed at the incredulous look on her face and shrugged. "Let the gossips gossip. All you and I gotta do is have a good time, get to know each other. They can believe wha' they wan'." She stared at him for a long moment, then stared at his hand, then at him… and then harrumphed. But after that, she appeared looser, less tense, less angry, and she reached forward to take his other hand in a firm, but quick, handshake to signal her—at least momentary—agreement.

And thank goodness it was quick, because the heat of her grip, her bare skin touching his… damn.

_Damn_.

Gathering himself, he took a moment to appreciate the clothing Peggy had loaned to her as she stepped out of the room, body turned away from him for the moment, and closed the door softly behind her.

She was in one of Peggy's dresses, one of the ones Pegs only wore when she and Steve were going out, which was just a little long and just a little loose on her, but the soft, medium-blue fabric looked good draped over her form, and the ivory shrug over her shoulders complimented the dress, her skin color, and her hair altogether. The soft blue of her… device was only just peeking out from the collar of the dress, but he really only noticed it beside the blue of the dress because he knew what he was looking for.

She looked lovely.

Miles different from the grimy, barefoot, sleeveless top- and loose pants-wearing spitfire they'd picked up in the middle of Italy. She would look… Christ, she'd look absolutely breathtaking beside Steve, the blue of her dress matching his service jacket and his eyes, her dark tone to his light tone…

She noticed his gaze and gave him a half-hearted glare before stalking ahead of him down the hall, hips swaying—probably  _deliberately_ , good Lord.

She was going to kill him and Stevie both before Hydra could get their hands on them, at this rate.

Okay, so maybe not  _quite_  as different as how she'd first appeared to them.

New clothes did not a different person make.

* * *

Bucky would readily admit that calling the tiny building that sat tucked away in the corner of their base a restaurant was a little bit of a stretch—the wallpaper was peeling, the tables and chairs were a mismatched collection of hand outs and antiques and the food was painfully simple…

It was the best they had though, and Bucky would readily admit that eating there after having spent weeks, sometimes months, out on the front and behind enemy lines was one of the best treats he could imagine these days.

The Howlies usually retreated to this base, specifically designated for S.S.R. and M.I.6 operatives, and he felt more comfortable here than he did in HQ in Leicester Square in London.

Leicester Square tended to be overrun with people who liked to cozy up to Steve—and Bucky and the Howlies, by extension—to further their own political goals, and Bucky  _hated_  that they had to play nice with those jackasses.

But for now… for now he was  _home_. As close to a place that could make him feel at home on the other side of the ocean from his family—his  _blood_  family; he had plenty of new family,  _found_  family, brothers and a sister in arms, who'd walked through hell with him and to the other side.

And there was further still to go.

Toni moving easily alongside him, eyes taking everything in as quickly as they were able to, Bucky stepped further into the little hole-in-the-wall and signaled to the lovely Mrs. Taylor that they would be grabbing the two-person table near the fireplace against the back wall. The elderly woman gave him a quick smile and a nod, indicating she'd be by in a few minutes, and Bucky started towards the table—but not without first making a little stop at the kitchen door to give plump Mrs. O'Dwyer a gentle kiss to her wrinkled cheek.

He could tell she wanted to ask him more— _especially_  about Toni—but she kept her greeting to the basics, smiling back and swatting at him fondly when he called her his 'best girl' and saying he expected nothing but the best from her kitchen—because, of course, she could never turn out anything subpar.

Her cheeks coloring sweetly, she shooed him and a smirking Toni from the entrance to her small kitchen, stating, "Well, perfection don't happen on its own! O' wi' ye!" She'd always had a fond spot for Bucky, ever since he'd first shown up in her restaurant, looking a little broken and underfed after his… capture.

She'd always looked out for him ever since, and he wasn't really even stretching the truth when he called her his best girl. She really was something, Mrs. O'Dwyer.

He looked down at Toni, and remembered seeing her talking with Peggy earlier that day. Well, he sure had a lot of ladies who were 'something' in his life, that was for sure.

"So you and Peggy get along?" he asked a few moments after they sat down at their table, following his train of thought as he fiddled a little with the checkered blue and white table cloth.

She looked at him a little oddly for a moment before replying. "Yeah. She and I... I know her. Um. From where I'm from." She paused a moment, obviously thinking, and then spoke again. "She was a pretty big part of my childhood, and almost all of my adult years. She meant a lot to the family, but I think she meant the most to me, and that I meant the most to her. It's… weird, seeing her here, and talking with her, not knowing what to say, or do, or what—so of course I told her everything I could," Toni finished with a soft laugh, her eyes lighting up.

"Did you know us?" he found himself asking, desperately curious, despite everything the sci-fi stories he'd read said about asking about your future, and how it always backfired. "I mean, you knew our names, who we were, even the Howlies. You act pretty comfortable around us. As much as you can in your situation, I guess. But... did you?" He rested one elbow on the table and his chin on his fist, relaxing into his seat as he asked the questions.

A dark look passed over her features as she fell silent and still—completely at odds with the carefree laughter of moments before. She was stiller than he'd seen her since they pretty much literally ran into each other. He reached out just the tiniest bit towards the minimal bond she and him shared, but wasn't too surprised when he got nothing, just like the rest of the day had been like.

But Bucky didn't need to know what she was thinking to know the truth. To know that she didn't know them in person—and, of course, their bond would have made itself known to them in that time if they had met in person... before.

They were either dead in her time, dead and buried, or their paths hadn't crossed.

He was pretty sure he knew which of those options it was.

"It's okay," Bucky said into the silence between them, finding himself trying to reassure her instead of himself. "I sort of figured it was something like that." And he had, even if he hadn't quite acknowledged it. Before he could stop himself, acting more like Steve, with his big mouth, than himself in the moment, he blurted out a rather desperate question:

"At least… do we… do we go together?"

They both froze, Toni's eyes shooting up to meet and hold Bucky's. Her eyes widened and her pulse skyrocketed, heart beating fast and furious in her breast. Everything narrowed down to the two of them, nothing else, not even Steve's questioning and slightly panicked pulse through the bond. It was just the two of them, nothing else, as if all sound had disappeared and all he could hear were her quick breaths and the thrum of her heart racing.

"No," she said curtly, tightly, chin jerking in a single, negating shake of her head. "Not exactly." Her lips pressed so tightly together that there was a little white line edging around her lips.

Bucky could feel himself wanting to panic, but he squashed that part of him down, telling Steve to get out of his head—and he did—because he needed a moment to himself, and then he evened out his breathing. He was the practical one. He'd known there was little chance of him getting out of such a cold and bloody war and seeing the other side. He knew his chances, even with Steve at his side.

Steve's chances were far higher than his, especially with Bucky and the rest of the Commandos to watch his back. If anyone was getting out of this war, it was Steve, and Bucky would  _die_  to make that happen.

But…

Stevie. His Steve, left without him. Left with bond loss and Bucky's cold, dead body laid before him. Left alone in the world, no one else able to love him the way that  _he_  could. The thought was even more frightening than if Bucky were left without Steve. If Bucky went first, that was… He didn't ever want to do that to his Stevie. He'd rather Steve went first, if they couldn't go together, because he would spare Steve if he could. He would spare Steve the pain of a severed bond.

Especially a violent one, considering their occupations.

"Does—" Bucky started, but Toni interrupted him, heedless of the panic welling up within him.

"I don't really want to talk about it more right now, please." Bucky's mind went still at the anguish tingeing her tightly spoken words and the panic of her own shining in her eyes.

Bucky suddenly felt a rush of anger quickly overtaking his sadness—why the fuck was  _she_  upset, when he was the one who was gonna die? When  _Steve_  was gonna die, and she knew how both of them went? Why wouldn't she  _tell_  them?

But before he could get on her case, she continued, voice low and tight with pain, still, but softening, as if she sensed Bucky's thoughts and wished to soothe him, to take it all away from him if she could.

And as she spoke, Bucky realized he'd been misplaced with his anger—or, at the very least, that it was not the right time for it. All things had their place and time, and now was not the time for  _that_.

"I… still haven't figured out what to say about it. About all of this." She wiggled in her seat in what would be a becoming manner if Bucky were in any other mindset than this, and then made a face. "I'm not that great with people in the first place. Put my foot in my mouth all the time. Say the wrong things. Hell, I need intervention—a babysitter, even-half the time for anything to do with people that doesn't have to do with business or… well, other things." She cleared her throat. "And here I am, trying to navigate what to say about a world that none of you know, things that could help, things that could possibly make things worse… And then I have to figure out what to say in response to questions like what  _you_  just asked. Figure out if I… if I…" Toni tensed right up and looked at the table in front of her, as if it held all of her answers.

After a moment, Bucky realized she probably wasn't going to continue speaking. She'd clammed right up. He set aside his rather… morbid curiosity and anger at learning about his own death—he was sure the concept hadn't really set in fully in his brain, because why else would he be so  _calm_  about it all of a sudden?—and set aside the desperate urge to race out of there, find his Stevie, and lock him up somewhere safe and sound, get him away from the war, away from the deaths which were looming over them like a cloud. To lock  _himself_  up to protect his Stevie from the despair of Bucky's own forthcoming death. He set all that and more aside, drawing on the stoic strength of the soldier in him, deep in his bones, in his mind, and focused instead on Toni. On the woman in front of him who his heart ached for in the face of all of… this. Whatever  _this_  was that was wrapping around the three of them like clinging vines.  _This_  which was likely going to hurt the three of them a lot more before it was all over.

Whenever that was.  _If_  it was.

Who was he kidding? The likelihood of all three of them coming out the other side of this war was slim.

But he set it all aside, grabbed the waitress' attention, and ordered the two of them some drinks—good Canadian whisky for the both of them that was hidden behind some carefully-disguised fake bricks in the cellar. They could sure as hell use the real stuff at a time like this.

After their drinks were delivered to them a couple of minutes later—Toni knocking hers back right away in desperation and signaling for yet another—Bucky finally spoke. He'd used the short break to gather his mind into some semblance of order, and to reassure Stevie over the bond, letting him feel that all would be explained later.

That he was okay.

But now to make sure  _Toni_  was okay.

"All this must be really hard for you. Being a woman out of time—Peg's words, not mine, I promise—out of place in the world. I'm sorry," Bucky murmured sincerely, and a moment later there was the minutest of shifts in the set of her shoulders and her jaw before she murmured,

"Yeah."

Bucky took a moment to let that settle over them, so as not to push this volatile creature too far, too fast. And then he offered, "Tell me about it."

She shifted her gaze to meet his eyes. "About what?"

Bucky waited for the waitress to exchange Toni's glass of whisky for another, which she sipped at instead, this time, and for them to order—fish and chips for Toni and meat pie for Bucky—before replying.

"About them. About the people you… left behind." He didn't mince words; he knew she wouldn't appreciate it. "The ones you were torn away from. Tell me about your life—the things and the people in it. What you do, what the world is like. Or not even the latter. Just… tell me."

A tense pause as her eyes darted over his features, looking for a tell of some kind; perhaps she thought he was having her on. "Why do you want to know?" she asked finally, voice carefully neutral.

"I just… I just do. Not for any reason other than getting to know you." When it looked like that answer wouldn't suffice, he smoothly—though very seriously—added, "We're going to be seeing each other around. We've got… a connection, whatever it is that we do with it. We should learn about each other. About our lives. I'd much rather we get to know each other than constantly guess at each other's motives or backgrounds or reasoning or whatever it is we're bound to do. We'll still do all that. But… we could be friends. And I'd rather that than enemies. I'd rather that than being acquaintances. I'd rather we all get along, my big lug of a punk included."

Toni just stared at him, her face blank instead of neutral, obviously hiding what she was thinking—and he was pretty damn sure he knew what was at the forefront of her mind.

"Stevie doesn't always know what he needs," Bucky said softly, ducking his head a little in an attempt to catch Toni's dropped gaze. He did, and she stared at him, which was a step in the right direction, though her face continued to show nothing. Not a clue.

At least Bucky had had plenty of practice learning the female brain.

Well. The  _1930s_  female brain.

Who knew what they were like in  _2009_. Maybe they were all like this one, though Bucky had his doubts that any of them could quite match the…  _something_  that there was about Toni.

"He doesn't," Bucky insisted, speaking firmly but quietly. "And he doesn't speak for me. Not all the time. Toni," he tacked onto the end.

Her eyes softened a little.

It was enough.

"Here, I'll start," Bucky said casually as he sat back in his seat. He took a sip of his beer and then launched into some happy stories about his childhood. About his mother and his father, his sisters, his friends, his school. He carefully steered around meeting Steve at their rendezvous, but included little bits and pieces about their lives after the fact—the trouble they would get into, deliberately and accidentally, some of Steve's illnesses, their trips to Coney Island… little things.

Toni's features started to gentle as he went on, and soon she was interjecting, asking questions to further the stories, and even checking stories  _she'd_  learned about them against the unvarnished truth, straight from the horse's mouth.

Her favorite was  _definitely_  the classic one the Howlies told at every party and poker game they were invited to: Jones and Falsworth stealing a goddamn Hydra tank while the occupants were taking a bathroom break, and then breaking down the nearby base's front door with their own weaponry.

It was probably a good fifteen minutes later, already halfway through their meal which had arrived not too long ago with a kiss to Bucky's brow given by Mrs. Taylor, when Toni finally chimed in with the first tidbit about her own life. He was nearing the end of one of his and Stevie's drunken tales—the one involving Mr. Wallace and three raccoons—when she laughed fondly and then said, "That sounds exactly like something Rho— Like something Jim would have said!"

He didn't miss her catch but he wasn't exactly sure what she had been about to say. Perhaps one name was more painful than the other, or the person in question had more recently started going by another name; a nickname used or discarded. Either one was possible. He'd met a few people in the war who'd changed the name they were called by.

Bucky simply tilted his head in question, slightly too long hair swinging through the edge of his vision. Time to start avoiding the rules-obsessed officers yet again; he  _liked_  his hair this way. Even more importantly, so did Stevie.

"Jim. My best friend. He…" Toni glanced over his shoulder, eyes going a little distant and fork dropping to her plate with a slight clink before she settled back in her chair just a little more, and brought herself back into the moment. "He was the one who noticed…" Her fingers made an aborted movement towards the back of her neck.

Her mark.

"It doesn't matter." Toni shook her head, instead smiling at him as she continued with her story. "He and I went to university together. He was my first friend, really. I hadn't had much opportunity for that before. But we got on like two peas in a pod and were a pair of hellions, giving our professors heart attacks at every turn. This one time…" She chuckled, eyes lighting up. "We were celebrating, and got really,  _really_  drunk. And we decided it was high time we broke into Professor Fredrickson's office and stole her collection of vintage toy cars off the shelves. The ones she was always slipping into every conversation like some overly proud parent. Well. That was the time we nearly got caught. And he… God, he said almost exactly the same thing that you said to Steve: 'Well, next time we'll just be sure to drink more.' I mean… Completely innocuous and common phrase, but it just sort of… reminded me," she finished a little lamely, looking embarrassed. She awkwardly reached for her fork again.

But Bucky was smiling. It sounded like this Jim meant as much to Toni as Steve did to Bucky—minus the soulmate thing, but Bucky had always been of the mindset that one could have friends that exceeded the connection a soulmate could give some people. And also of the opinion that a person needed more than just their soulmate to have a full and fulfilling life.

That was what this Jim sounded like in Toni's case.

"Is he still in your life?" he asked, gently nudging her back on track.

She gave him a look that told him she knew exactly what he was doing, but continued in any case. "Yeah. Well." She let out a short, bitter bark of a laugh. "Present circumstances excluding." But she didn't dwell on that topic. "Yeah, he's still with me. I've known him since I was fifteen, all the way to now. And never once has he left my side. Except, well, that time I was dying, but I honestly can't blame honeybear for that one."

Wait. What?

"What?" Bucky demanded, remembering at the last moment to keep his voice down just enough to not be heard too easily. "You were  _dying_? What  _happened_? And what sort of punk would leave their friend when they were  _dying_? Why would he do that?"

Toni gave a practiced one-shouldered shrug— _too_  practiced—and replied, as if it were no big deal, "It's all good. Not even my girlfriend figured it out, and we slept in the same bed, saw each other without clothes… if Pepper couldn't see it, then I have zero expectations for my best friend to have seen it."

Bucky could only  _stare._

He wasn't sure which part he wanted to address first—she'd had a  _girlfriend_? did she still? was that a thing that was allowed in her time, that she could speak so casually of it? and for Christ's sake; did she have to give him the mental image of them,  _her_ , without clothes on?—but finally settled for gathering himself together and fiercely going after his original—the most important—point.

"You were dying?" he asked again, even more sharply this time, feeling a surprising level of fierce protectiveness well up within him.

"It was a shit time for all of us," Toni replied defensively, just as sharp as Bucky.

"Tell me." He barely made it more of a request than a demand. But he needn't have bothered, because Toni was already starting to speak, one hand reaching up to tap agitatedly at the device in her chest.

Oh.  _Oh no._

How could Bucky have forgotten her mention of taking shrapnel to the chest? He had just assumed, because it was the future, because she had a futuristic device, that she hadn't come close to death.

Well, no. No. He'd been distracted—if he'd been thinking properly…

"So, a little backstory, I guess," Toni was saying. "My father founded a successful company. An engineering and technology company that became involved in weaponry. I know, yeah, we can talk about that more later, but I'm trying not to be my normally-blathering self here." She let out a small, self-deprecating laugh which Bucky gave a small smile to in return. She continued. "After his death I took over and took it to new heights. But apparently the universe decided I needed to be brought low. One of my mentors, a family friend, arranged to have me kidnapped and killed, except it didn't go exactly as planned. I was injured… by my own weaponry."

Bucky winced, and Toni gave him a wry look. "By some twist of fate, I was saved by another man being held captive with me. He… Yinsen saved my life, giving me the original basis for this design. But I needed something more powerful than what was originally powering it so that I could, well, survive. Survive long enough to escape my prison and leave no soul alive."

Bucky didn't need to ask about the other captive, seeing the look of pain in Toni's eyes and the way she clenched her fists.

"But ironically enough, the element—the… material that was keeping me alive turned out to be killing me. And there was nothing I could do about it. I had created a one-of-a-kind power device that powered a one-of-a-kind health device, so I was on my own. Well, except for one very loyal friend. But everyone else… I didn't know how to tell them. Didn't really  _want_  to tell them I was dying. I could find nothing to replace the material to help keep me alive, and I didn't want to put any of them through the process of waiting for me to finally kick the bucket. I didn't want to put them through that, especially Jim and Pepper.

"I'd already put them through so much in my life, been  _too much,_  and I didn't want to hurt them anymore than I already had. I didn't want them to  _worry._ So really… it's not their fault. I didn't want them to know, so they  _didn't._ Simple as that. My erratic behavior during the time I was dying was nothing they hadn't seen before, honestly. They just thought I was acting out and, well, I was. They just didn't know it was because I was literally  _dying._ Instead of just being an idiot. Which I have been  _many, many_  times."

She flashed Bucky a brilliant smile, but he could see the edge of sadness to it and it just made him want to take her into his arms, into their family, and make sure that she was  _happy_ , past be damned. Appearances be damned.

They could find a way to make this work, damn it.

She was here for a reason, and Bucky was suddenly sure that this was that reason.

"How'd you live?" Bucky asked into the momentary lapse in speech.

And  _there_  was her true smile. "Discovered a new element, changed the face of science and technology forever, revolutionized the world. All in a day's work." Bucky let out a small laugh. "No really!" Toni spread her hands wide and her eyes wider. "I totally rocked it."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "How close did you cut it?"

Toni pouted. "Ugh. Yeah, okay, you got me. It was way too close for comfort. But I'm good. I'm all good now. New ticker is ticking just fine as far as I can tell." She rapped a knuckle against the glass through the material of her dress.

"As far as…?" Yeah, Bucky's mother hen tendencies were  _really_  starting to shine through.

"Well, it was only two weeks ago! Cut me some slack!" Toni glared.

"Two weeks! Toni! What the—" He cut himself off, realizing his voice was rising in pitch a bit too much. "How can you be sure everything's okay, if that only happened two weeks ago? Have you tested everything properly? Have you checked out all the possibilities and, and—"

"Dude. Barnes." Toni reached across and placed a hand on top of one of his, gripping his knuckles tightly, but laughter dancing in her eyes. "Bucky. I'm fine. I'm going to be okay. I ran every test imaginable for days straight, using the best tech in the world at my disposal. Seriously.  _The_ best tech, and that isn't ego speaking."

He eyed her dubiously. "Yeah okay, maybe it's a little bit of ego," she said. For a moment he thought she was deliberately misinterpreting him, but then she continued. "Some call me a control freak. Some others call me less… nice names. But they're right. And especially where my family is concerned, my  _friends_ , I wouldn't ever hurt them—so I'm even more of a control freak then. And losing me, as much as I do  _not_  understand that," Oh  _Christ_  it hurt his heart to see that she really didn't, "would hurt them a  _lot_. So throw in some healthy self-preservation, lots of money, and the world's worst, or best, babysitter in the world… and you have me looking at a ridiculously small percentage for a fail rate, with a nearly unlimited lifespan for the power supply, and all tested to the best of my abilities. Which is a lot.

"So. Yeah. Control freak, and I'm not keeling over anytime soon," she stated rather proudly, giving his knuckles a last squeeze before releasing them and leaning back into her chair.

"But what if something happens and you need that tech, the tech only you have back in your  _time_ ," he whispered the last word, "and you'd die without the ability to get to it? What then?" he pointed out the obvious. He  _knew_  she'd already thought about it, but he needed to know what her answer would be.

"I'll find a way home, whether so I can use it in an emergency or if push comes to shove and I need to find a way home  _after_  said emergency has taken place," she said firmly, pushing a strand of hair off of her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. She blew out a short, sharp breath. "Like I said, control issues. I'll make sure I have everything covered, and what I don't have covered I'll find a way around. I  _will_ ," she resolved. Then she rolled her eyes.

"I don't like feeling like I have no control," she reaffirmed. "This whole… thing. I'm usually in charge. Owner of my own company, remember?"

"I remember," Bucky replied wryly.

She continued right on. "I can usually do whatever I want. But I know I can't here. Not as much as I would like, as what I'm used to. It's beyond my control. I know I can't, shouldn't, stick my nose into a well-oiled machine like the S.S.R. but it just… Ugh. It frustrates me.  _So_  much. So I'm just left reeling, feeling lost, knowing I can help—and I  _will_ —but not knowing how or when and just…" Toni sighed, and then quickly adjusted herself so that she was leaning her chin on both of her fists, elbows propped close together on the table. "So yeah, I'm cranky. I'm flighty. I have control issues. Obviously. Well, maybe not to you. But everyone else knows it.  _I_  know it."

Bucky snorted and shrugged. "Ah well," he said, offering her a grin and letting some of the tension out of his body. "You should hear Steve sometimes. Stupid fucking idiot. You think you got it bad, you should see him when one of the generals expects him to do something without giving him a say in it."

It wasn't until he was near the end of his story, mind caught up in a memory of Steve's rant after Philips told him to take the Howlies through enemy territory for an inane, idiotic reason, that he realized Toni hadn't really responded well to him talking about Steve so much before, and he cringed without really meaning to do so, coming to an awkward halt right in the middle of a sentence.

Toni's eyes flashed and her shoulders went right back, rigid as could be, even as her face lost all expression.

This was it. That was apparently Toni's breaking point, and he'd walked right into it. It was probably inevitable, but he still felt like a  _jackass_.

"You don't have to fu— you don't have to coddle me," she grit out. "In fact, please don't. Contrary to rather popular and prevalent belief, I  _am_  a grown woman, a functioning human being, and I won't become raveningly jealous at the mere mention of  _Steve Rogers."_  Toni's face went through a series of different expressions which Bucky was  _sure_  she hadn't intended to allow through the neutral expression she started with and then finally settled on.

He wasn't entirely sure, however, on if she was telling the truth or not. He could sense the hunger for something… something  _real_  in her, whether it came from a soul bond or not, and what Steve and he had  _was_  real. But she could… she seemed just as unhappy about the situation as Steve did—at times; don't think he didn't notice Steve's  _interest_  at times, willing or no—so perhaps they really could just make this work as… well, something  _other_.

But he still needed to get her to  _understand_. He had to try, had to get her to see he wasn't  _trying_  to hurt her. That neither of them were. That this was just… it was…

"Look, I'm not— I'm not trying to spare you," Bucky found himself saying. He hadn't intended to really speak, but he threw himself into it, letting the words flow straight from his heart, even though he knew this wasn't exactly the best place to being airing all of…  _this_. But she really needed to hear what he had to say. "It's really weird for me—for us—okay? Toni. Steve and I have known we're soulmates since we were kids. We grew up together, I know every part of him and he knows every part of me. It's gonna take us a while to catch up with the idea of there being someone else out there who is meant to complete us... who's... who's supposed to be the missing piece we didn't even know was missing."

She held his gaze through it all, eyes piercing into him as if she could tell his deepest, darkest secret—and who knew, maybe she could. Maybe she could see right into him in that moment. But he didn't care—she  _needed_  to see what he was saying, what he was feeling, what he was  _trying to do_.

"I don't know you," he continued, keeping hold of her gaze. "And you don't know me. You don't know Steve. That's gotta grow, and woman, you gotta give it time to grow. I know Steve's an ass, sometimes. Better than most people, and definitely better than you—don't look at me like that." Her glare evened out. "I've spent fifteen years with him. I know him. I know how he ticks, and I know he's balls out terrifie d of what you represent.  _I'm_  terrified of what you represent. You don't get to judge us for needing time to adjust to this. I'm good at rolling with the punches, but this—you—this means that everything I've believed since I was a kid is wrong. And that'll take some getting used to. For me and for him. Please... we're trying. Okay? While I can't imagine being in your shoes... please keep in mind that you're not in ours either."

Silence fell around them, bracketed by the quiet chatter of the other patrons, the crackle of the fire beside them, and the sound of the wind picking up and the rain starting to fall on the patched, though well-sealed, roof. They were silently observing the other, assessing, weighing each other—and Toni weighing Bucky's words.

Finally Toni sighed and leaned back, body relaxing into something much more casual and comfortable, and breathed out, "Okay. Yeah, yeah that's fair enough. She was quiet another moment and then she added, in a quieter, much more tired, voice, "I just want us to set this behind us. Set it aside, at least, for now. At the very least. We're all adults here and I'd just like to interact with you both, with  _all_  of you, without this getting in the way every moment of every day. I'd just like the chance to be friends, nothing more, okay?" Her eyes darted to the side, normally a sign of dishonesty, but Bucky could tell that wasn't exactly what was going on here. She didn't  _feel_  dishonest… but nor did she sound defeated. "Please," she added, voice strained.

Bucky considered her for a moment, trying to judge the situation for what it was—the  _entirety_  of the situation—before reaching across and gripping the fingers of both her hands in each of his own. "I'll talk to Steve. I'll talk to the boys and to Peggy and we'll try to be mindful of your needs, of what you want," he promised lowly.

She turned back and looked him straight in the eye, then gave a brief nod before drawing her hands out of his and placing them in her lap. He could tell she was fidgeting restlessly with them, however. "And this," she finally said after a moment, managing to indicate with the movement of her chin the concept of 'them'. "What about this public image thing you lot were all trying to plan without my consent?"

_Christ_ , he felt the burn of  _that_  gaze, of those pointed words.

"We don't need to explain to anyone what they have no business knowing," he asserted.

She leveled him with a look. "I know how public relations work, Sergeant." Toni raised one brow archly. "The cat's out of the bag now, and no matter what we do—to a certain point, at least—we can't change their impression of the situation."

She was right, of course. Bucky sighed. "We'll figure something out. Keep private about it all as much as we can, and just tell them all we're—"

"You're what?" a new voice interjected, and Bucky saw Toni's eyes go wide wide  _wide_  as she took in the man standing just behind Bucky and to the left before she composed her features completely.

It was the exact same panicked look that she'd had on when the owner of said voice had been speaking to her early last evening, when they'd arrived on base.

A panicked look that made him worry deeply.

He'd have to get to the bottom of it, he promised himself, but for the moment, all he could do was stand and politely offer his hand.

"Howard."


End file.
